Doctor Who: Parallax - I Won't Dance
by Montana
Summary: EPISODE I: A decade after the Battle of Canary Wharf, Rose has built a new life on Parallel Earth. Now an intelligence asset for the new Torchwood Institute, Rose has returned home for her thirtieth birthday when she sees a face she thought long gone. Nine/Rose. AU/AR I'll be writing these like episodes. Which means you'll have to wait for the good stuff. Deal with it. :)
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** I own precisely NONE of the Doctor Who characters. I will be posting the first three chapters three days in a row, so we can hurry up and get to the point where our favoritest Time Lord shows up. After that, I'll post a new chapter Mondays and Thursdays.

Yes, you're going to have to deal with this BS "plot" stuff before the inevitable payoff.

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

* * *

"Are you sure about this, love?" Jackie asked, tilting her head as she looked at the banner that stretched across the foyer. The grand staircase was lit up in the bright morning light of a rare sunny day, and servants bustled around them, setting decorations and polishing every inch of the mansion.

"I told you I didn't want a birthday party, I'll be happy to can the whole thing." Rose replied, grinning. Her hair, now its natural dark, dirty blond, was twisted up in a messy bun, and a tattered, filthy ruck sack hung from her right shoulder. Jackie had been mortified at the sight of her when she waltzed in that morning. Just in time.

"Don't be stupid, you have to have a party. Been gone for months, you. The invitations have been sent, and you promised."

"I know, I know, mum. Just, what's the problem, now?"

"The banner, of course!" Jackie hissed, "It says you're thirty!"

"But I am thirty. Unless you've forgotten." Rose pointed out, nudging her mom with her free arm.

"Don't be fresh. I know how old you are, but you don't have to advertise it."

"What's the matter with it?"

"Thirty, darling. Thirty! No husband, no kids, no proper home. I don't want everyone thinkin' you're…"

"What?" Rose interjected, her humor lost, "Thinkin' I'm what?"

"Look," Jackie sighed, turning to look at her daughter for the first time, "It's just – I know things didn't work out with Tom, and that's fine. You were young and it wasn't long after…" Jackie let the sentence drop and Rose averted her gaze to the marble floor, "but that doesn't mean you can't have a good life."

"I do have a good life, mum," Rose said, raising her eyes to meet her mother's.

"But don't you want something more, sweetheart? Don't you want what your dad and I have?"

"Stepdad. Ish."

"Shut it, you know what I mean."

"I know," Rose smiled, "but I tried, mum. I did."

"You were young, though. And it was too soon after…"

"After the dimension canon failed." Rose finished. "It doesn't matter. Everything with Tom, it was real, mum. It was real, but it wasn't right. Not for me. Took me a long time to figure that out."

"Things might be different, now. You've grown so much, sweetheart. You're different than you were."

"Yes," Rose allowed, "and no. I've grown into the person I was meant to be, mum, and I know it. What works for everyone else, it doesn't work for me."

"How do you know?" Jackie asked, her eyes welling with tears, "No one cares about the divorce, love. It's not too late."

"Mum," Rose took her mom in her arms and held her, a somber smile on her face, "It's all right. Just trust me, OK? I don't do domestic."

* * *

"I have receipts!" Rose announced, stepping into the humming hub of Torchwood Tower. Mickey Smith, known to the world as Ricky, an irony not lost on him, turned around, grinning. She was a right mess, kitted out in a black ribbed tank top, khaki cargo pants, and faded, mud-caked pink Chuck Taylors. She was also smiling like a nutter.

"Well, well, look what the Catkind drug in." he rushed forward to embrace her as she dropped her ruck sack unceremoniously to the floor. Mickey, the head of Interdimensional Research at the Torchwood Institute, swung Rose around before setting her down to a moment of profound silence. All the analysts and techs on the 63rd floor had stopped to stare at the unconventional behavior of their boss. After a moment, Mickey and Rose noticed the stillness, and regained their composure.

"Right, then," Mickey addressed his subordinates, "Back to work. No use gawkin'."

"I'm sure we've just instigated all manor of rumors." Rose commented, picking up her bag.

"Might as well push it, then. My office?" Mickey offered his arm. Rose smiled and took it, thinking just how odd it was to see Mickey in a proper suit and tie. After the Cybermen removed themselves to her own universe and were defeated, the war against them in this universe had ended. The Peoples' Republic took over, and Mickey, no longer needed for combat, was elevated to his current station. Rose had worked with him for a time, trying to build a dimensional cannon that would return her to the Doctor. It failed.

Winding through the bright, sterile workstations of the Division techs, Mickey and Rose reached his office. Beyond the plexiglas front, there sat a single, cluttered desk surrounded on one side by bookshelves loaded with binders and on the other by a corkboard wall covered in schematics, charts, and red-flagged pushpins. Opposite the door, a wall of windows displayed the zeppelin-crowded London skyline and the murky Thames below.

"It's not fair you get the nice office," Rose mocked, setting down her bag and plopping down on one of the stainless steal chairs.

"Yeah, that's what happens when you don't go swannin' off for months at a time, gypsy girl."

"It's my job." Rose grinned, "And I have…"

"Receipts, yeah, I heard you," Mickey chuckled, sitting down at his desk.

"At least I didn't forget them this time." She pointed out, pulling an overstuffed folder out of her pack.

"Jesus, Rose, all that?"

"Six months worth, what did you think?"

"In New South Africa, not that. Did you buy the hotel, then? You're going to bleed this place dry."

"Hardly," Rose scoffed, tossing the folder onto his desk, "How's Julie and the kids." Mickey smiled and touched the wedding band on his hand.

"Good, Rose, good, thanks for asking. Charlotte's just got the training wheels off her bicycle last week. Insisted on it. Said she can't follow Auntie Rose with training wheels on."

"She did not! You liar."

"She did, though! Hand to god. Julie wasn't too pleased, mind. If you go draggin' her only daughter off to the ends of the earth, she'll have your head."

"Noted," Rose said, chuckling.

"How are you, though? Took a while to track down a hunk of scrap metal."

"It was a piece of the starboard aileron from a Nefirian freighter." Rose corrected, "And I'm wonderful. It was harder than you think, you know? Getting the local tribesmen to cooperate. I mean, I found the crater easy enough, but the artifact had been moved. A small band of Zulu tribesmen saw the crash and when the piece cooled, they carried it off to their village. They thought it was a powerful item, and they weren't all wrong, really. I tried tracking it down, but after the fall of the Second Apartheid, the Zulu don't trust us. Can't say I blame them." Rose frowned, staring off into space. After a bit of a pause, Mickey waved a hand in front of her.

"Oi, still there, Rose?"

"Right!" Rose startled herself back to the present, "Sorry, I was just thinking of this village I saw. Well, it used to be a village… Sorry, anyway, there are so many tribes throughout the country, and none of them will speak to us, anymore. Finally, I was at a bar in Johannesburg when I met a young Xhosa man, Gcobani. He spoke Zulu, as well as English and Afrikaans, which is odd, nobody there admits to speaking Afrikaans, anymore, never mind English. Anyway, we became quite good friends and he helped me make contact with the Zulu. Took a bit, to find the right village and all. Once we did, we still couldn't get close to the sacred site, the hut where they kept the artifact. Gcobani and I had to live with them for a month before we could even see it."

"Wait, how did the Zulu allow a white person, never mind a Brit, to live with them?" Mickey interrupted.

"Well," Rose shrugged sheepishly but couldn't honestly manage a blush, "Gcobani pretended to be my husband. The village elder found it hilarious, some sort of cosmic revenge, I suppose. A tribesmen doin' to me what we done to the Zulu. Eventually, we managed to sneak into the sacred hut and I confirmed the artifact's origin. After that…"

"Yes, we all know what happened after that; you, running across the Transvaal with a band of Zulu warriors hot on your arse. It took a presidential decree to keep it out of the news so Jackie wouldn't find out."

"Yeah, thanks for that. It's not my fault, though. Mum made me promise I'd be home by today. I had to get the artifact and get out."

"Oh, no problem at all," Mickey waved it off with a sardonic smile, "But, just so you know, the HMFWIC is talking about limiting the number of aerial extractions you're allowed in a calendar year."

"Right. It has sort of gotten to the point where I wave my arms and shout 'Taxi!' as the traffic helicopter flies by." Rose mused, earning a grudging laugh from Mickey.

"You're the best asset we have, Rose, but sometimes I think you've a death wish."

"Not in the least. Can I leave these receipts with you? I need to get ready for mum's daft party." Rose asked as she stood and gathered up her bag.

"You mean your daft party? It is your birthday, Rose."

"Maybe, but the party wasn't my idea. You'll be there, yeah? You and Julie?

"Wouldn't miss it for the world." Mickey assured. After saying their goodbyes, Rose left. Mickey sat for a moment in silence. Finally, when he was sure she was gone, he reached for the button on his intercom.

"Mrs. Roth, please bring me the Hippocrates File."


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** Mad, MAD thanks to everyone who's "followed" or "favorited" this story, and the first reviewer! I'm a little stunned at that level of response to a first chapter. I do hope I don't disappoint! I own nothing. Absolutely nothing. All hail the BBC for finding a legal way to distribute crack.

* * *

Rose's dusty field clothes lay in a pile in the corner of her room. Freshly showered, she regarded the dress laying on the bed waiting for her. Jackie had picked it out, naturally, and once upon a time, Rose would have adored it. It was the epitome of the Little Black Dress. Now, her tactical gear was like a second skin, a uniform as much as her dear Doctor's aged leather coat or his successor's smart, pin-stripe suits. The dress was quite smart, itself, classic and alluring. She ought to be thrilled.

With a labored sigh and a rueful smile, Rose got dressed. She strapped on the turquoise heals her mom had picked out and replaced her plain stud earrings with the diamond tear-drop ones Pete had bought her for her birthday. She applied her makeup, and, considering for a moment, combed out her hair, leaving it down. Outside bathing, she'd not left her hair down in months. It simply wasn't practical in her line of work.

As she was finishing, she glanced longingly at the nightstand. There, simple and unassuming, lay a men's watch. It had a black strap that fastened by a buckle, and a white, rectangular face with roman numerals. It was broken. The hands were permanently stuck at 8:23. She assumed the regeneration energy had stopped it. The new Doctor had had no reservations about her keeping it, so, she had. For a time, it was tucked away among her things, but after the Battle of Canary Wharf; after her exile to the parallel universe; she'd worn it every day. Jackie hated it.

Rose stood, fiddling with one of the diamond earrings. She could hide it. The last several years she regularly wore a collection of bracelets: paracord survival bracelets, leather straps, bands of copper or iron, and a couple hand-dyed silk wraps strung with beads. All gathered from the farthest reaches of the planet. All reminders of everything she'd done and built and been since she lost The Doctor. The watch could hardly be seen among them. Jackie would still know, however. She always did, and after being gone so long this trip, Rose wanted very much to do something, some small thing to make her mum happy.

Rose snatched up the watch and strapped it on, just as she'd decided she wouldn't. One by one, she slipped or tied on her collection of bracelets, carefully hiding the watch. She didn't want to hurt her mum, not even a little, but this was bigger than all that. After failing to make the dimension canon operational, failing to return to her Doctor, to watch his back as the great git so frequently needed, she wore the watch as a sort of promise. A promise that she still remembered him, still fought for him, even when she couldn't fight at his side.

Finishing, she regarded herself in the mirror. She looked a proper contradiction in her designer dress and diamond earrings with a random assortment of mismatched, dented, and tattered bracelets on both wrists. Gypsy chic, she thought, and the corner of her mouth tilted up in a sardonic smile.

"You like pretty," a little voice came from the bedroom door behind her, and Rose spun around with a proper smile.

"Tony!" Rose exclaimed, and she rushed forward, scooping her half-brother up in a massive hug.

"Rosie!" Tony squealed as she swung him about. He was the only person in that, or any, universe allowed to call her that, not that she could have stopped him. She was "Rosie" to him, ever since he'd learned to speak. Now, at nine, he was almost too big to pick up, and he still called her Rosie.

"What trouble have you been causin' since I been gone?" Rose asked, finally putting him down and seating herself in an armchair by the door.

"All I can," Tony assured, grinning broadly. His eyes were the same dark hazel as her own, but harbored significantly more mischief.

"Right, and how's school goin'? You applying yourself?"

"Sometimes."

"Sometimes? You don't want to be like your daft sister, do you? I never took my A-levels, and now look at me. I'm thirty and still living with my parents." Rose teased him.

"But I do want to be like you!" Tony insisted, "I want to save the world. I got to save the school last month."

"Oh, really?!" Rose burst out laughing, "Did you burn down the cafeteria, then? Save everyone from Monday's mystery meat?"

"No!" Tony laughed, "I can't tell you." Rose paused a minute, a feeling of dread threatening to form in the pit of her stomach. Still, she held her smile, if a bit shakily.

"Don't be daft, you can tell me anything. I'm a secret agent, you know." She winked, poking him playfully in the ribs. Tony giggled.

"I thought you knew about it. With the aliens and all."

"Aliens?" Rose asked, the swell of dread growing. Still, she tried to maintain her humor.

"Yeah, you study aliens, right?"

"Off the record, yeah. But what would aliens be doing in Croydon?"

"I can't say." Tony smiled, tickled at knowing something his big sister didn't.

"Why can't you say?" she asked.

"He said not to."

"Who said?"

"The Doctor." Tony whispered. Every single thought fled from Rose's mind in an instant. The room suddenly felt chill.

"The school doctor?" she asked, mechanically, once she found her voice.

"No, just The Doctor." Tony shrugged, "He said it was over and not to tell anyone because he had to stay secret."

"What did he look like?" Rose asked, her heart pounding in her ears.

"Like The Doctor." Tony said, very matter-of-factly, and changed topics. "Mum says to tell you the party's started and to come downstairs." Rose was too stunned to answer immediately.

"Right," she breathed, finally shaking off the shock. It couldn't be The Doctor, and she knew it. Tony was confusing details, leaving chunks of the story out. He was only nine, she assured herself. She reached out and ruffled his shaggy blond hair. "Tell mum I'll be right down."

* * *

Tony was right, more than half the guests had arrived when Rose emerged from her room. Looking down from the top of the stairs, she was more than a little intimidated. Some of these people were her closest friends. Some she hardly knew at all. Others were parallel versions of people she'd known in her own universe and she could never quite feel confortable around them. She spotted Mickey and Julie down below, and she waved. She caught their attention, but unfortunately also her mother's.

"Oh, oh, oh! Everyone!" Jackie exclaimed, grabbing a cocktail fork from a passing server and clinking it against her champagne glass, "Everyone! Everyone, quiet! The guest of honor has arrived!" The crowd below settled down. A sea of people kitted out in their finest looked up at her all at once, and Rose forced a smile. This time, she actually was blushing.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Jackie proclaimed, "I have to apologize. I told the printer's a thousand times it was her twenty-ninth birthday, but they sent this. Must have been rounding up; that's the public school system for you. Regardless, please give her a big hand on celebrating her twenty-ninth birthday! Rose. Rose, sweetheart, come on down and say hello."

As the assembled revelers took up with applause, Rose descended the stairs. Her smile was sheepish, but genuine, and as she neared the landing she heard Mickey shout at her to take a bow. Feeling awkward and just a bit puckish, she obliged. Pausing on the landing, Rose swept her arms out and executed a few gracefully exaggerated bows. She tossed her head up after the last bow, laughing heartily. Mickey shot out a loud whistle, and Julie playfully slapped at his arm. Still laughing along with the guests, Rose continued down the stairs.

She could waste her time lamenting, she realized, or she could make the best of it. It was that attitude, hard-won after two years toiling away in the Torchwood Engineering Lab trying to make the dimension canon work, that had enabled her to move on after losing The Doctor. Embracing the frivolity and levity of the moment, Rose waded into the crowd. She chatted up old friends, important strangers, and at least three servers who somehow fell into her orbit. She poured all her charm and irreverent humor into the moment, and found she was genuinely enjoying herself.

Then, she saw him. The moment her gaze fell upon on his face, her good spirits fled. She stopped laughing, frozen in place. Considering her options with frenetic speed, she decided to turn away and pretend she didn't see him. Then he turned his head; he saw her, and she knew it was too late. Steeling herself, Rose walked calmly through the crowd, the din of revelry falling muffled on her ears. Within moments, she reached him; he and his new wife, who was nicely decked out in a gorgeous silk maternity gown. She was seven months if she was a day.

"Tom." Rose addressed, thankful her voice had come out calm and firm.

"Rose," he greeted, his smile warm and soft. She couldn't help staring a moment at his square features; the dark, enticing stubble that dusted his face; and his perfect lips. She'd set foot on every single continent with him. They'd spent three months at McMurdo, stranded in an off-season Antarctic storm. They'd rescued a stranded Anthelian from a modern-day lynch mob in Alabama. They'd made contact with a previously untouched tribe deep in the Amazon basin. They'd chased a full-grown rancor through the streets of Madrid.

"It's uh," Rose faltered, but held her smile "It's been awhile."

"Your mother invited me." Tom explained, looking apologetic, but not as awkward as Rose felt."

"Well, I assumed as much," Rose forced a chuckle, "How've you been?"

"Good, good. We're uh…" Tom paused gesturing toward his obviously pregnant wife.

"Yes, yes, I'd heard. Rather hard to miss, that." Realizing how that might be taken, Rose stammered on, "I mean, you look lovely, Martha. Hope you're doing well."

"Yes, quite well, thank you." Martha assured, a sheepish smile on her face. She'd been with Tom and Rose through all those Torchwood field missions. The three of them had been a team, and they'd been brilliant together. Rose realized she shouldn't have been as surprised as she was when Tom married Martha mere weeks after his divorce from Rose was final.

"Tom!" Jackie exclaimed, cutting through the crowd and effectively ending the tense conversation, "So good to see you, and Martha you look absolutely smashing! Doesn't she, Rose?" Rose opened her mouth to agree, but Jackie continued on without awaiting a reply, "I hate to interrupt, but there's someone I'd like you to meet, dear." Jackie took Rose's arm and started off. Rose, too bewildered to argue, followed.

* * *

**Footnote:** Almost there... Just one more chapter, I promise.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** I still do not own the characters/settings/general awesomeness of Doctor Who. Much thanks to the folks who recently followed; I know the exposition can get tiring, but I promise I'll make it pay off. And to **TK**, I sincerely hope I don't disappoint. As much as I adore 10; and to an only slightly lesser degree, 11; 9 was the one who made me a fan, and it all just felt so unfinished. I couldn't stop thinking, 'what if 9 had the time with her he wanted.' So, like any other internet a-hole, I started poking around until I broke things and made them do what I want. In any case, here's the scene where he finally shows his "daft face."

Enjoy everyone! ...I hope.

* * *

"Mum, why'd you have to invite Tom?" Rose asked, quickly snatching a glass of champagne as they dodged past a server. The guests were all happily speaking amongst themselves, and the entire ground floor of the mansion was humming with laughter, clinking glasses, and conversation. In Rose's state of mind, she was endlessly thankful no one was paying attention to her.

"What? Why wouldn't I? He was my son in law, after all. Practically family! No need to be odd about it." Jackie dismissed Rose's protest, "Right now, I want you to meet Collin. He's a barrister, works with your father's company. He just came back from a vacation in Toronto. Oh, you'd like him, always traveling to exotic places."

"Mum…" Rose protested just as she'd drained the glass and handed it off to a server. She wanted to point out that Toronto didn't count as "exotic" in this or any universe.

"Oh, don't argue, Rose. He's a handsome young man, he'd do you good." Jackie insisted, finally slowing down. She scanned the assembled partygoers for a moment before pointing toward the French doors leading to the back terrace. "Ah, that's where he's got to!" Jackie said, and she pulled Rose forward. Finally returning to her senses, Rose pulled back and stopped her mother in her tracks. Jackie turned, confusion plain on her face.

"No." Rose said, as gently as she could, "I'm sorry, mum, but no."

"But Rose…" Jackie protested, concern replacing her former excitement.

"No, mum. I'm not meeting the barrister you've picked out for me. Or the bobby, or the magistrate, or the…" she faltered, nearly saying doctor, "cardiac surgeon!" Jackie looked stunned at the outburst.

"I just want what's best for you, sweetheart." Jackie pleaded.

"I know, mum, but this isn't it."

"I don't want you to be alone." Jackie Tyler's tone was rarely so soft. The party rolled on around them, oblivious to the moment.

"I'm not alone," Rose assured, now gentle. She placed her hands on her mother's shoulders, "I'm never alone, mum. It's not just traveling all over, collectin' alien artifacts and savin' the planet, you know? I've met so many people, been invited into their homes, made part of their families; I've made a difference."

"What about your own family?"

"You know I love you all. I do. But there's more to me, to my life, than just you."

"Why can't you just be happy, sweetheart? With us, with havin' a home and a good man and maybe children of your own."

"Mum, I just wasn't built that way. I tried, I thought I'd be happy settling down a bit, I really did, but I wasn't. I wasn't and Tom found someone who could be happy like that. For me it's…" Rose stalled, searching desperately for a way to explain herself, "It's like wearin' shoes three sizes too small. It's not just inconvenient or uncomfortable; it's painful. It's nearly impossible."

"It's all that bloody Doctor's fault."

"Mum!" Rose snapped, losing her patience, "Don't. Don't you dare blame him. This is who I am, who I've always been. Travelin' with the Doctor only made me realize it. So stop lookin' for someone or something to blame for me turnin' out _wrong_. If you can't accept it, if you can't find it in you to be happy that I'm happy, then we're done talkin'."

"Rose…" Jackie sighed, but her daughter cut her off.

"I'm done." Rose, said, calmly swiping another glass of champagne from a passing server, "I need a moment, and I think so do you. I'll be in the kitchens gettin' pissed." Rose raised her glass in silent toast to her mother's stunned face before quickly dodging toward the back of the house. It was a rare thing, rendering Jackie Tyler speechless, and Rose didn't take nearly as much pleasure in it as she thought she might. Pushing back the anxiety, Rose drained the champagne glass and handed it off, rather unceremoniously, to some random guest. The stunned stranger in the tuxedo watched her disappear through the swinging mahogany doors leading to the kitchen.

* * *

The servers and kitchen staff were more than a little surprised to see Rose come sauntering into the kitchen. She paused a moment, smiled, and nodded at them all before crossing the room and pulling a bottle of brandy out of the massive liquor cabinet. The half-dozen or so staff assembled in the kitchen stopped and watched her a moment before the head of house, Wilfred, chastised them to get back to work. Rose had set the bottle on the counter and was unscrewing the cap when a brandy snifter was pushed into her line of sight.

"If you're goin' to get rat-arsed, then, missus, you'll use a glass, at least." Wilfred Mott said, smiling. Rose couldn't help but smile back.

"For queen and country?" Rose teased, pouring herself a glass. A flash of confusion crossed the old man's face.

"You do say the strangest things sometimes, missus."

"Cheers, Wilf." Rose said, raising her glass to him and draining it.

"Cheers, indeed, missus," Wilfred chuckled before turning to address the staff, "Everyone, gather up your trays and head out. Let's give the missus a moment alone." The servers filtered out of the kitchen, obediently, and Wilfred exited last. Rose refilled her glass and turned around, leaning back against the counter. The large, gourmet kitchen was still, but she could hear the mirth echoing through the house. Sighing, she swirled the brandy around in the snifter, lips pursed in contemplation. The rich-hued liquid held her attention, hypnotic and prismatic as it circled the glass. She'd been so proud of herself, resolving to embrace the spirit of the party, to have a good time. Then, things had gone spectacularly to pot.

It felt like failure, a personal failure. Rose downed the brandy and poured herself another. She knew she had to go back out there, eventually, and she couldn't go out there sloshed and make a fool of herself. Well, she _could_, but she didn't want to. To that end, she decided this ought to be her last glass. Still, she had little desire to return to the ballroom immediately, so she took her time. She savored each sip, closing her eyes and allowing the happy tingle of inebriation to calm her frayed nerves. Then, just as she emptied the last dregs of her glass, she heard something strange. She heard ticking, a soft, rhythmic ticking. She looked about the kitchen, but all the clocks were digital.

Rose set her glass down hesitantly before shuffling the stack of bracelets on her left wrist. She hadn't realize she'd been holding her breath until she saw, plain as day, the second-hand on The Doctor's watch was moving, and she exhaled heavily. Before she had as much as a split second to fully absorb that fact, she heard footsteps, rapid and heavy, coming down the back stairwell, the servant's stairs, toward the kitchen. The steps grew louder, closer, and Rose stood upright and turned to face the stairway door. When the door suddenly swung open, her heart leapt into her throat.

"Oi!" an all-too-familiar voice exclaimed in an all-too-familiar Northern accent, "Uh, right. This – this is not what it looks like." The clothes were the same, the black boots, black slacks, worn leather jacket, and navy blue jumper. Rose hadn't looked square at his face, yet, and couldn't bring herself to do so. Instead, she noted the large, rough hands and the fact that he held a frantic hen cradled under his left arm and a ball-peen hammer in his right hand.

"No, really," he insisted, and Rose finally had to look up. Those angular features with the keen gray-blue eyes, that face she'd missed from the very moment it first vanished from her life, took her completely unawares.

"It's hard to explain," he continued, "But I promise, I don't go around nailin' chickens. Well, that sounds just as bad, dunnit?" he half smiled, and her heart skipped a beat. "Funny story actually, I was just…" he seemed to notice, finally, the odd expression on her face. "S'there somethin' wrong?" with his concerned look, Rose found her voice.

"Doctor?" she asked, her voice strangled. The Doctor, if he was indeed so, stood up a bit straighter and tilted his head. He paused a moment to really look at her, bemused and ignoring the fidgeting, clucking hen.

"I'm sorry, have we met?"

* * *

**Footnote:** Dun, dun, duuuuuuuun!


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** I own nothing; the BBC owns it all. I'm just another anonymous hack writer on the internet, dickin' around. I wasn't going to post again so soon, I was going to pace myself after getting the first 3 chapters out like I said I would, but I'm WAY ahead of pace, so as long as that keeps up, here you go! Just keep in mind I make no promises to maintain this posting rate. Monday/Thursday is default, anything else is just a bonus. Frankly, I'm just pleased that my return to FF has kicked my muse in the arse like I hoped it would. **LadaHathaway:** Yup, he's the alt. universe Doctor. I know he doesn't exist there in the canon, but the dimension canon also worked in the DW canon. I reject their reality and substitute my own for my own selfish purposes. I'm a rebel like that. **TK:** Hehehe, so glad you enjoyed it! And jackie is an unpredictable one. I sonde,r if The Doctor gets smacked by the same woman in two universes, does the multiverse collapse in on itself? Either way, there's some extraneous "plot" junk between now and then. We'll have to wait. :) **EVERYONE**: No, last chapter certainly was not he end, obviously. I plan on this being a full episodic series. This being sort of like Episode 1, but hopefully much less crappy than Star Wars Episode 1 (Although, Liam Neeson was still brilliant, the kid was crap, though).

* * *

To Rose, his question seemed, at first blush, so insufferably stupid she couldn't answer it. 'Of course we've met!' her mind screamed, but the utter lack of recognition on his face stilled her tongue, rendered her mouth dry. She'd gone through this, to a much lesser degree, when she first met this universe's version of Sherene. The best friend who'd never met her. Now, though, the urge to run forward, to throw her arms around him and cry and rage at him for leaving her was so primal, so nearly blinding, it choked her. Her mouth gaped open, but no sound came out. Her feet, blessedly, remained planted.

The individual in front of her, now clearly perplexed, took a single step forward. He was no stranger to the stunned looks of humans whose lives he'd come crashing through, into, or around; but this woman, this blond woman who held herself with such assurance, bore an expression he couldn't decipher for all his centuries meddling in Earthly affairs, an expression that contradicted her confident posture. Five billion languages vanished from his mind as those large, inscrutable hazel eyes held him in check. Nothing, save the end of the world itself, could budge either of them.

As if on cue, a great clamor arose in the ballroom. It was the first sound to gain a foothold in Rose's tumultuous mind. The god-awful clatter of shattering windows that followed sent both of them running for the swinging doors, running toward the sounds of destruction and mayhem. The man, The Doctor, if that's who he was in this universe, sprinted through the doors first, but staggered immediately to a stop. Rose was fast on his heels, and equally as quick to arrest her charge once she saw the laser sights and muzzles of two dozen assault rifles held by black-clad members of the Torchwood Tac Team. Rose spun around, instinctually looking for a way out, when five more Tac members streamed through the doorway they'd just gone through.

"Doctor," came Mickey Smith's booming voice over the ruckus, and Rose turned forward again, searching the crowd until she saw her friend, standing behind the Tac Team with a vocal amplifier fastened around his neck, "you are in violation of Section 9 of the Articles of Terrestrial Sovereignty. Put your hands in the air, or we will be forced to open fire." Disbelieving, Rose watched, frozen, as the man, now confirmed to be The Doctor, let the hammer drop to the floor and loosened his grip on the hen which proceeded to flail and flap wildly for freedom. Slowly, The Doctor raised his hands above his head, and two members of the Tac Team crept closer. Once they'd reached them, one man brought his hands down while the other cuffed them behind his back.

Horrified but overwhelmed, Rose couldn't bring herself to move or speak as The Doctor was escorted away. The Team's rifles were trained on him the whole time, and just as he was about to disappear in a sea of black tactical gear, he turned his head back to glance at Rose. The look in his eyes was by turns resigned and accusing, and as he looked away, again, Rose finally found her voice.

"Stop!" The command came out with considerably more force and authority than she realized herself capable, enough so that the two men escorting the prisoner actually paused.

"You will continue with the prisoner," Mickey commanded, shooting a scathing look at Rose before unfastening the vocal amplifier. Unwilling or unable to yield, Rose charged forward, and the Tac Team closed ranks behind the prisoner. Without hesitation, Rose took a dive, passing through the space left by a very surprised Tac Team Member's wide, at-attention stance. She felt like crowing at that small triumph, but gained her feet and sprinted forward instead, only to be intercepted by Mickey.

"No!" she screamed, "Let me go! What are you doing?!" While he didn't have much on her in height, his years of field service had made him stronger, despite his new desk job. Rose writhed and lashed out at him, screaming and watching as The Doctor was loaded into an armored transport and driven away. Only then did Mickey finally let her go.

"What the hell was that, _Ricky_?! What did you just do?!" Rose demanded, all wildness and righteous fury.

"I tracked down an alien threat is what I did." Mickey asserted, straightening his lapels after their struggle, "I did my job."

"Your job?! You're the head of the Dimensional Investigation Division. You handle research, not tracking and detention!"

"Special assignment, yeah?"

"Assigned?" Rose asked, panting heavily, fists clinched at her sides, "Or volunteered."

"I took the initiative," he clarified, "and it paid off." No sooner had his last word escaped his lips than Rose laid him out with a vicious right hook. She knew, instantly, she'd broken her hand, and in the haze of rage she didn't care. Mickey was spread out on the ground, looking up at her in a daze.

"Initiative, eh?" she breathed, wiping an errant trail of spit from the corner of her mouth with the back of her arm, "How's that for initiative?" Rose didn't wait for an answer, but instead walked away, trembling with the sudden loss of adrenaline. Her right hand was starting to swell and ache with an astounding intensity. The gathering of stunned guests cleared out of her way as she headed for the stairs. No one stopped her, no one questioned her, and she ascended the stairs in abject stillness. She had to change before heading to the hospital.

* * *

Rose was returned to her room several hours later, heavily sedated, with pins in two of her metacarpals and a fantastically unwieldy plaster cast. Surgery was quicker, cleaner, and safer than it had been on Rose's Earth, but still required powerful drugs. As Pete and Wilfred helped her to her room, her head lolled about and she murmured insensible things to them. Not bothering to undress her, the two men tucked her into bed and turned out the lights. That night, she dreamed the disjointed, often frightening dreams of the chemically altered mind. Every monster she'd ever faced, alien or human, paid a visit. Through it all, she pursued a tall, lean silhouette and gray-blue eyes that both haunted and comforted her fogged mind.

It was three in the afternoon before she awoke, and Tony was lying on his stomach on the floor next to her bed, busily writing in a spiral notebook. Groggy, Rose could only manage a grumble at first, but it got her little brother's attention. The boy immediately dropped his pen and shuffled over to her bedside. Rose rolled over, mumbling and wishing for stronger painkillers. Tony took a glass of water from the nightstand and handed it to his sister who gratefully took several large gulps.

"Hi little monster," Rose said, breathless, setting the mostly empty glass back on the nightstand. She pulled herself up to lean against the headboard, cringing from her lethargic body and aching hand. "What time is it?" she asked.

"Three," Tony answered his voice low. Looking around the room, Rose realized he meant three in the afternoon. The curtains were drawn, but slivers of daylight could be seen between the panels. "I'm supposed to tell mom and dad when you wake up."

"All right, then," Rose shrugged, using her elbow to fluff up the pillows behind her.

"I have to show you, first." He whispered.

"Show me what?" she asked, her brow crinkled in confusion. Her drug-addled brain wasn't up to puzzles just yet.

"His ship," Tony said, taking her non-injured and hand and tugging at it, "The Doctor left his spaceship." Rose's brain cleared up right quick. Throwing the covers off, she got to her feet and immediately regretted it. She half-fell, half-sat back down on the bed and took a few deep breaths to clear the stars from her vision. Then, carefully, she stood back up.

"Where?" she whispered after determining she was relatively steady on her feet, and Tony took her hand, leading her around the foot of her bed. Rose looked over her shoulder, back toward her bedroom door, and wondered if Tony was taking her away from it because someone might be listening at the keyhole. Instead, he brought her to the door of the walk-in closet and stopped. Rose gave him an incredulous look, and he responded by turning the doorknob. Carefully, Rose pushed it open.

At first, she couldn't see anything. Instinctively, she reached out with her right hand to flip on the light, but the motion elicited a hiss of pain and she switched to her left. After the relative dark she woke up in, she was momentarily blinded as the light came on and she put a hand up to shield her face. As her visual sensitivity gradually faded, she lowered her hand. Her breath caught in her throat. There, in the mostly empty closet, stood a blue, wooden Police Call box from the 1950s. It was large for such a relatively small space, it was entirely random, and it was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen.

Rose stepped forward, fierce longing and cautious joy tugging at her heart. The scent of hardwood and aged paint filled the space. It had always amazed her, the level of detail produced by that faulty Chameleon Circuit. Or perhaps it wasn't the TARDIS. She'd wondered off-hand on more than one occasion if that's simply what the Time Vortex smelled like. Not that it mattered. She looked the same, she smelled the same, and, as Rose drew close and reached out a hand, she felt the same. There was a slight thrum to the TARDIS, a sensation not unlike a pulse. No human would notice unless they expected it and paused long enough to catch it. It was like hearing three or four notes of your favorite song somewhere off in the distance, gone as soon as you heard it, leaving you wondering if you heard anything at all.

A quivering smile came to Rose's lips, and she pressed both palms against the wooden door. Despite herself, a single tear escaped, and she let out a breathy chuckle. She noticed the "windows" of the TARDIS weren't illuminated, and she assumed The Doctor must have powered it down. She realized, then, the TARDIS had been here, in her room, the entire time she was sleeping. She felt suddenly frustrated at the lost time. However, she wasn't able to dwell on that thought very long before she heard Pete's voice coming down the hallway outside her room. With a last, mournful look, Rose turned and hurried from the room, turning off the light and pulling the door shut behind her. Tony was looking up at her expectantly.

"We can't tell anyone about this," Rose breathed, and Tony nodded with the kind of gravity only a child could manage.

* * *

**Footnote:** Completely unrelated, but... When you first saw "Aliens of London," before we were told the pig-pilot was not, in fact, an alien, did anyone else chant "_PIGS IN SPAAAAACE….._" What, just me? I also sing the Muppet Show theme song in the bath. Don't judge me.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:** I don't own any of the Doctor Who characters. Not even a little. Makes me sad.

Also, before everyone collectively rises up against me, it's cool. Things will resolve. I know this is a terrible thing to say, coming from a stranger on the internet, but just trust me. The candy is safe, the cake is not a lie, and that windowless van doesn't belong to a serial killer.

**GitaMerah: **hehe, yeah, Wilf is the Tylers' estate manager. He bosses the butlers/maids around. I kinda enjoy taking characters I like and giving them random cameos in the parallel universe.** Jake2490:** Yes Rose absolutely knows how to throw a punch, and were this just any mission; were she cool, calm, and clear-headed; everything would have been just dandy. But, she was in a full on rage, she didn't plan on hitting him until he spoke, and she cracked him a lot harder than she intended. We've all done something stupid and hurt ourselves when we were just furious out of our minds. If you haven't, yet, add it to your bucket list. **TiaKisu:** I just love how you ask questions I can't answer yet. :D And I know, the separation thing sucks, but trust me. Again, the cake is not a lie. **LadaHathaway**: Yes, Rose is an asset for Torchwood, but Mickey is in a supervisory position, not over her directly, but he has authority she lacks, nonetheless. Also, other reasons, see below. Pete being the director didn't work for the crap I intended to pull, so it was conveniently ignored. _We're all going to learn together, here, that I have no scruples._ :D

* * *

After changing into fresh jeans and a tank top, Rose made her way downstairs. An industrial cleaning crew bustled around the ballroom and foyer gathering up the shards of glass and splintered wood from the tactical assault the night before. The massive windows along the southern and western walls of the house had been covered in industrial plastic sheeting which diffused the already overcast afternoon light. Being careful to stay out of the way, Rose made her way to the breakfast nook. As she pushed open the door, she was more than a little surprised to see Mickey's face.

Rose froze in the doorway for a second, and Mickey had the good grace to look at least a little ashamed. Wordless, Rose crossed to the tea service cart and poured herself a cup of Darjeeling. She pointedly ignored her friend, if he could be called such, and proceeded to carefully prepare her beverage. Just as she had finished stirring, the door swung open and Jackie and Pete walked in. Her mother immediately gathered her in a wordless embrace, and Rose held tight to her. Separating, Jackie looked up at her daughter, running hands over her cheeks while tears welled in her eyes.

"Oh, love, how are you feeling?" Jackie asked, and Rose knew she meant more than just the hand.

"Banged up a bit," Rose admitted with a rueful smile, "but I'll live, yeah?"

"Good, good," her mom refrained from pushing. Pete was waiting to the side, and Jackie reluctantly stepped away, so that he could take her place, wrapping the daughter of his heart in his arms.

"We'll get this sorted, love," he whispered in her ear before stepping back and giving her shoulders a brief squeeze. Jackie, meanwhile, had grown serious and was staring down the man seated at her breakfast table.

"And what are you doin' here?" Rose's mum asked, her tone low and level. Mickey knew full well he was in greater trouble when the older woman wasn't screeching at him.

"He came to deliver a check from the Torchwood Institute." Pete's tone was equally as critical for all its superficial equanimity, "Compensation for the – 'inconvenience.'" The family Tyler all stood facing him, and Mickey swallowed hard.

"Yes, sir. The Institute recognizes the damage done…" Mickey began, but Pete cut him off.

"Oh, bugger the Institute, and bugger the blasted windows," the older man took the check from the inside pocket of his suit jacket and tore it in half, letting the sundered pieces flutter to the floor, "A quarter of your funding comes from my company, besides. Let's talk about the damage _you_ did, old man."

"Yeah," Jackie chimed in. Rose just stood, watching it all with equal parts surprise and amusement.

"I came for that, too." Mickey insisted, finally finding some courage and no small amount of indignation, "I had to do it. We have no idea what we're dealing with."

"Of course we do," Jackie admonished. She was the first to step forward and sit down at the table with Mickey, "How many times has that man saved the world? The universe? Saved Rose?"

"You never cease to amaze me, mum." Rose said, smiling and taking a set between Mickey and her mum. Pete finally did the same.

"What dear?" Jackie asked, "Oh, right, all that. I know I get cross about him sometimes, but I don't hate him. Not anymore, anyway. I know what he done for us."

"Nothin'," Mickey cut in, startling them all, "He's not done a thing, not this one, anyway. He's not our Doctor. We don't know who he is." Mickey glanced around the table, but when no one moved to stop him, he continued, "We been keepin' a file, yeah? Ever since I decided to stay in this universe, I started lookin' for 'im. I knew we couldn't have The Doctor around to – to do whatever it is he does to save the world all the time. So, I thought maybe this universe has its own Time Lords and things; it's own Doctor."

"So you knew he existed?" Rose asked, wounded, "You knew and you didn't tell me?"

"Would it have mattered?" Mickey asked, genuine sympathy plain on his face, "When you were left stranded here, would just any old Doctor have done?"

"No," Rose admitted.

"Right. For you, it's not just about bein' The Doctor. It was about _your_ Doctor. I thought, after a time, you might be happy knowin' there was someone out there, takin' care of all the things that go to pot, but not then. Not when you just lost 'im."

"But I got past it, Mickey. Years ago. Why am I only findin' out 'bout it now?"

"I couldn't be sure, Rose. The trail, it's not as clear, here. There were accounts, but only a handful of pictures, and none of them matched either of the Doctors we knew."

"He regenerated several times before he met me," Rose pointed out.

"Right, but the accounts on this Earth stopped after about 1996. Long before you and I and our Doctor accidentally wound up here. And it's a good thing we ended up, here, too. Because this Doctor wasn't around when the Cybermen came. Something arose that could have threatened the whole of the universe, and he couldn't be bothered to even show up."

"Maybe something bigger was happening," Rose offered, her voice somber. They looked at each other a moment, and Mickey knew what she meant.

"Be that as it may," Mickey allowed, "He wasn't here. The evidence I had to act on was slim at best. We gathered what we could, kept it in a file; The Hippocrates File," Mickey half smiled, "Thought it up myself."

"Did you, now?" Rose couldn't help but grin at that.

"Yes I did," he asserted with all the feigned dignity he could muster, "and all this time passed with nothin' to add to it. I didn't tell you, Rose, because I thought – I thought maybe he was gone. I don't think he's invincible or anythin'. He could have died. Or, I thought, maybe he just didn't care about us, about Earth, that is. Neither was an answer I had the heart to give you."

"Right," Rose acquiesced, "So, what changed?" Mickey took a deep breath.

"We had a recording. It was the only thing we had to go on. I assumed, since the TARDIS from our universe couldn't draw energy, here, we couldn't use its energy signature to track the TARDIS in this universe. Lucky for us, in 1982, an answering machine owned by a family in Hounslow recorded a message from their son sayin' he'd be late home. In the background was this humming noise. A noise I recognized as soon as I heard it."

"The TARDIS materializing,"

"Right. The recording was bad, bein' analog and all, but we were able to digitize and isolate the sound. The pattern was fed into the database, and now every CCTV and phone line in the UK is keyed to pick up that sound and report it to us. Not perfect, mind. If he lands somewhere without CCTV coverage or outside the audible range of a telephone that's actively in-call, we won't hear it. Yesterday morning we got a hit."

"Where?" Jackie chimed in, enthralled. Rose's heart sank a little, nervously thinking about the surprise in her closet.

"A CCTV near Tower Bridge picked up the sound. It was within an hour of you landin' at Heathrow, Rose."

"Right. So why, then, did you come crashin' through my foyer instead of making contact that morning?" Pete asked.

"It was gone," Mickey said, simply, "Dematerialized before the Tac Team got there. We don't know where it landed, next. Didn't even know if it was still in the area."

"How'd you know he was here, then?" Rose asked. Mickey blushed.

"I had a hunch. Our Doctor, he was always off-course, yeah? Always being drawn somewhere he never intended by the TARDIS. I thought, what if you drew the TARDIS' attention. So," Mickey hesitated, averting his eyes to study the grain of the wooden table, "I had a surveillance team stake out your house."

"You were spyin' on us?!" Rose hissed, outraged.

"Only a little."

"A little?!"

"Yeah, I coulda' tapped your phones and your computers, you know? Probably even gotten a warrant to search the place. Ever since I brought 'im up, Torchwood has been far too keen to find 'im. They'd have done anything to catch 'im. Unfortunately, the surveillance team spotted 'im, crossin' the back lawn with that daft chicken under 'is arm." Mickey paused a moment, his face crinkling up, "What was _that_ about, anyway?"

"Don't know," Rose shrugged, "Apparently not what it looked like, though."

"You spoke with 'im, then?"

"Sort of," she shrugged, not wanting to discuss it.

"I need to know, Rose. Did he seem like himself? Like The Doctor we knew?"

"I don't know, maybe. I didn't exactly stop and have a philosophical debate, yeah?"

"But he didn't seem... dangerous?" Mickey asked, and the look in his eyes was pleading.

"Not really, why?"

"Because I'm beginnin' to regret I ever started lookin' for 'im."

"Oh, _now_ you regret it," Rose scoffed.

"Don't be flip. They took 'im Rose. They took 'im and I couldn't stop it."

"Who, who took 'im?" Rose's heart sank.

"Torchwood 3." Mickey answered, "He was 'transferred' this mornin'. He's locked up in some dungeon in Cardiff."

"He won't like that."

* * *

**Footnote:** This is a rather long single-scene, lots of talking and exposition. I apologize for that. Action ahead, I promise!


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:** I don't own The Doctor or Rose or Jackie or Pete. Or anyone or anything in the Whoniverse. More's the pity.

**TK:** You know, I don't think Rose would have been ready to meet the "new" Doctor before this point in her life. I suspect, when the TARDIS bothers to meddle, she makes sure she succeeds. She puts Jackie to shame in that regard. And Jackie just constantly amazes me. That moment in season two when she tells off Elton and insists she'll always protect Rose and the Doctor… I did a little cheer. She has her weaknesses, but at the end of the day she's a good mother, and she won't let Rose down. **Stephanie Davids:** Agreed, 10 is very fun and all, in a sort of manic-pixie pretty-boy kind of way, but nine was the best and his run was too short. Just here to amend that. :)

* * *

For all his regrets and good intentions, in the end, Mickey wasn't willing to risk his job to go nosing around Torchwood 3 in search of this new Doctor. Rose couldn't blame him, not with Julie and the kids to think of. Getting sacked would likely be the least of his worries if he interfered in Torchwood's machinations. Rose would never expect him to put his family through that. She could, on the other hand, blame him for taking her credentials and access card. Evidently, coldcocking a superior was frowned upon by management, even if he wasn't your direct supervisor. Rose begged him to hold off, just for a day, but to no avail.

Now, she found herself sitting on the edge of her bed alone in her darkened room. Her mind was racing, constantly fixated on the blue box stashed in her closet and the nearly three-hour drive west to where the Severn poured into the Bristol Channel. Without her credentials, and with the full force of the Torchwood Institute standing in her way instead of backing her up, she felt lost. She hadn't a clue how much time passed, sitting there in the dark, ignoring the chill that came to her as evening crept over the mansion. She was in a daze when Jackie opened the door.

"It's time for supper," Jackie informed, softly, "It's Indian. From that shop near Piccadilly you like so much."

"They don't deliver," Rose realized how inane the statement was as soon as she said it, and Jackie smiled.

"Your father went and picked it up. Everything deep fried they had, he got. Heart attack waitin' to happen, it is." Jackie sat on the bed next to her daughter. For a moment, they sat together in the stillness before Jackie spoke again, "So what's the plan, then?"

"I don't have a plan, mum."

"Better get started, then."

"What?" Rose asked, bemused.

"A plan. A proper plan. Can't go haring off to Cardiff without a plan."

"I can't go to Cardiff," Rose protested, "I haven't got my access card, my credentials; I don't even know where they're holdin' 'im. And why are you so keen all the sudden to rescue 'im. Mickey was right, we've no proof he's anything like our Doctor."

"Because you won't be able to live with yourself unless you find out, sweetheart. I'm not even sure I could, to be honest."

"Mum…"

"Now, hear me out. I know we've had our differences over that man, and frankly the idea that he might be the genuine article, that he might take you away terrifies me. But it also terrifies me, you givin' up so easy. Givin' up on the chance to do what you're meant." Rose looked at her mother, shocked.

"But, but Tom. And the barrister. And last year, the investment banker."

"Can't blame me for tryin'," Jackie dismissed, in an instant, all her meddling in Rose's personal life, "Remember, I was there for a lot of that nonsense back home, and I was there when you lost 'im. For two years we hardly saw your face, you spent so much time in that lab. I couldn't decide if I wanted you to succeed or not, but when it failed… Darling, I hate wonderin' all the time, worryin' about what trouble ya might get into, but I hated it more seein' you like that. I learned a long time ago who you are, and I was so proud when ye picked yerself up and found a way to realize all that you are while bein' stuck on Earth. But now he's _here_, love."

"He's not my Doctor," Rose reminded, and it was a certainty she knew in her bones, "Even if he's as good as 'im, as brave and selfless, it's not _him_."

"I know that, dear, but if there's a chance, just a chance this Doctor lives up to his name… Things might not be the same as before, but it's somethin'. All the barristers in the universe won't make you happy. I'd rather you had 'im than nothin'."

"Can I get a record of this?" Rose asked, "Do you think we can find a notary this time a night?"

"Shut it, you," Jackie laughed, bumping Rose with her shoulder, "Come on, to eat. You can't go breakin' into top secret government installations on an empty stomach."

* * *

The heater was out in Wilf's old Land Rover Defender, and Rose's fingers were chilled. Once plans had been made, the savvy estate manager had insisted she take the old off-roader, arguing that the vehicle, which was as old as Rose herself, would be untraceable compared to the newer "smart" vehicles the family owned, and that there was a very real possibility that notice would be out on all of the Tyler's vehicles, making Pete's old Jeep unusable. So, after giving Wilf a massive hug, Rose had driven off, struggling to hold the wheel steady with her cast-encumbered hand while shifting with her left.

Ten minutes outside Cardiff proper, she could see the lights of the city reflecting an amber glow off the overcast night sky. It was near on midnight, but she was wide awake, her hand aching fiercely from her refusal to take her pain medication. She needed to stay alert, clear-headed. Particularly since she suspected she'd be walking into a trap. She spared a glance at the passenger seat. There, sat a padded envelope that had arrived that afternoon while she was still asleep, addressed to her. Inside she'd found forged credentials featuring her photo and very specific instructions.

Roses' mum had had a fit, and her father had called in a handful of favors in an effort to determine the package's origin. There were no leads, and the timeline to execute the plan provided in the instructions was incredibly short. In the end, it was Rose's decision, and she elected to play ball. So, as per the instructions, Rose passed through much of Cardiff city, winding her way to a car park near mermaid quay. The third level was empty of any other vehicles, and she stashed the credentials in her pocket before getting out of the car and hurridly making her way down to street level. From there, Rose walked three blocks to a transit stop near a deserted intersection by the pier. A dark-haired woman was already seated on the bench, and Rose sat down next to her.

"Of course ye had to show up lookin' like a burgler," the woman commented.

"Right, what's your name, then?" Rose asked, ignoring the slight.

"Gwen. My boss sent me. Says I need to get you inside and take you to the prisoner. Going to be a trick, you lookin' like you want trouble."

"I didn't realize there was a dress code."

"You're impersonating a high-level operative from Torchwood 1. A suit."

"Are you backing out?" Rose asked, growing ever more suspicious.

"Afraid I can't. I'll escort you inside, try to bluff our way past the guards. You don't look the part, so try to act it. Go for humorless, maybe a little condescending. I'll get you to the cell. After that, you're on your own. If they figure us out, I've no choice but to deny all knowledge of this operation and help apprehend you."

"Fair enough," Rose allowed, grudgingly, "Who's your boss, though? Why you doin' this?" The woman looked at her, face hard but honest.

"I can't tell you," she respond, "Not sure why. Then again, I'm not sure why he went to all this trouble to acquire the…" Gwen gave her an assessing look.

"Alien," Rose supplied, "'S'Okay, I already know."

"Right, then. All this trouble to acquire the alien only to let some girl attempt a jailbreak."

"This have anything to do with Ricky Smith?"

"I don't know who that is. If my superior does, he didn't say. Come on, then, the guards won't get any more gullible with us sittin' here." Gwen stated, standing up. Rose followed suit, and Gwen shot a questioning glance at the broken hand. "You sure this is such a good idea?"

"Absolutely not," Rose answered with a broad grin.

* * *

"Are you sure you're not taking me here to kill me and dump my body in the Channel?" Rose asked as Gwen lead her down to a questionable-looking part of the pier.

"Our skyscraper is on backorder. Sorry to disappoint." Gwen opened a rusted, nondescript metal door and the two women stepped into what looked like the lobby of an incredibly shady marine tour business. A dark-haired man stood behind the counter, his suit and tie more than a little incongruous given his surroundings. With a nod, he reached under the counter and a panel in the wall to their left shifted open. Gwen led the way through, and Rose followed into a rather rustic-looking stone corridor illuminated at broad intervals by harsh halogen lights.

"Off to the right is the lift that leads down to Torchwood 3's main headquarters. Under no circumstances are you to enter."

"Plausible deniability."

"Precisely. None of our agents are to witness you coming or going save myself and Ianto."

"The bloke at the counter?"

"Yes. Now, to the left, here," Gwen began walking the direction indicated and Rose followed, keeping a keen eye on her guide, "lies a series of corridors leading to the high security detention block. Pay attention on the way down. This branch isn't normally so – crowded – but main office wouldn't permit the transfer without a little insurance. Now, as soon as we reach the cell, slip me the credentials so that I can have them destroyed. After that, you're on your own."

Rose didn't respond. Instead, she followed the woman through the corridor and down a lift that seemed to take them a dozen stories underground. From there, they bypassed the first pair of guards with Rose's counterfeit credentials with no problem. They wound their way through a network of hallways, Rose paying strict attention to each turn, passed another pair of guards without incident, and finally arrived at a long, sterile corridor lined in antiquated white tile. Two men stood guard at a steel door at the very end of the corridor. Rose heaved a deep sigh and straightened her posture.

"Gwen Cooper," Rose's guide introduced, holding up her credentials, "Escorting Ms. Fletcher from London. She's here to debrief the prisoner." Rose quickly flashed her "credentials" and fixed her face into as stern an expression as she could muster. She stifled a sigh of relief when the man on the right turned and unbolted the door, pulling it open. Rose nodded at him perfunctorily and surreptitiously handed the forged item off to Gwen behind her back. Then, her heart in her throat, she stepped into the cell and the door slammed behind her.

* * *

Gwen Cooper passed by Jack's desk on her way to incinerator. She didn't address him.

"Mission accomplished?" he asked, rising from his seat and following her. Gwen trotted down a short flight of stairs to the steel door set into the tiled wall about three feet off the ground. Gwen slid on a padded leather glove, turned the handle, and swung the incinerator door open. Both of them cringed at the blast of heat as she quickly threw the credentials inside and shut the door. Having one's own incinerator was handy. Usually they only used it to warm up leftover pizza.

"Yeah, I suppose. No guarantee it'll succeed. Please explain how this won't get us all sacked. Or arrested."

"Numbers. It's all in the numbers. Six guards fooled by falsified credentials versus one of my agents. The main office won't have room to criticize."

"Can they really be called forgeries when they were produced off the Torchwood mainframe?"

"Toshiko scrubbed the data, and I made sure the materials used could be found in any office supply store."

"So I didn't need take them and burn them?" she asked, incredulous, "What if she needs them to get back out?"

"There was still enough proprietary tech in the smart chip to make someone suspicious. Besides, you chewed me up one side and down the other when I gave you this mission," Jack grinned, "Why do you care whether the girl succeeds or not?"

"I don't know. She seemed – all right."

"She does, doesn't she?" there was a wistful smile on his face, and Gwen suddenly wondered how her boss knew the mysterious 'burgler.' Before she could begin to pry, Jack regained his irreverent demeanor and continued, "Anyway, it's not as bad as it all looks. In about ten minutes, the breaker leading to the CCTV and automated door locks is going to fail."

"Really?" Gwen prodded, skeptical.

"Just a little unscrupulous tinkering." Jack smiled wide.

"I do expect you to explain this all someday."

"Tell me, have you ever listened to CCR?"

* * *

**Footnote:** Credence Clearwater Revival (CCR) sang "Someday Never Comes."


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note:** As usual, I don't own the characters from Doctor Who. I just make them dance. Like puppets. Sorry, it took longer to get here than I thought it would. I just thought it would be kind of awful to be all "Aaaand she drove 3 hours to Cardiff and somehow snuck inside Torchwood 3. Ta-Da!"

**TK:** The simple explanation is, Jack has met Rose and the Doctor, but they haven't met him, yet. Multiple time travelers in a story can be a b#$%. :D **PolkaDotTARDIS:** In this story, the whole Meta-Crisis thing didn't happen. As stated earlier, the Dimension Canon didn't work. So, this Tom and this Martha belong to Pete's universe. I just rather liked Tom Milligan, for whatever reason, and I liked the notion of he and Martha together. So, in this universe, they are. If I gave him a different name, who would recognize who he's "supposed" to be? I don't think for most people he was a big enough character for the name "Milligan" by itself to trigger any recognition. Plus, I just don't see a problem with his name or a reason to change it. I still wanted Mickey to have someone so he's not just continually pining over Rose, so I gave him a family. Picked a name at random. I'm a rebel like that.

* * *

He was standing, facing the opposite wall when she came in. The cell was small, maybe 6x6, and a very utilitarian bunk hung form the wall to her right, eating up a lot of the limited real estate. He made no move to turn or acknowledge her presence, and she took that moment to study him. His appearance, his very existence, was still bewildering. She'd chosen her path, however; three hours' worth. So, she took a deep breath and began.

"So, who are you?" Rose asked, and at the sound of her voice, The Doctor actually turned. He appeared stunned a moment, and she was more than a little proud at that.

"You?" he asked, "You named me, and you want to know who I am?"

"Mistaken identity. Sort of. It happens."

"Right, so you're here to – what? Interrogate me?" he gave her that superior smile of his, and she flashed him a smug grin right back.

"I'm here to get you out," she said simply. His eyebrows rose, and her grin grew all the more smug. Between bluffing her way into a top secret bunker and speaking with this man who she knew so well and not at all, she was filled with a sort of manic giddiness.

"Hold on," he started, crossing his arms, "Aren't you the one who called in the troops, then?"

"I am not." She was being purposefully obtuse.

"But – you knew who I am."

"Not really, no." she said, honestly, "Just a familiar face. An educated guess." He considered her a moment, clearly not pleased with the lack of information she was providing.

"So, why do you want to help me, then."

"Thursday night. I was bored." She shrugged. As his face grew more guarded, more irritated, she cracked. A snort escaped her, and like that, she was laughing. Laughing at his expression, laughing at the absurdity of discovering his existence, and laughing at their imminent peril. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry" she wheezed, "We're about to get shot at, I couldn't help it." A grudging smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Who are you?" he finally asked, straight out.

"I'm the Doctor's companion," she shrugged, "Just not from around here. Universe adjacent to this one. Least, I'm assuming it's adjacent, otherwise how did I end up, here?"

"Companion?" his amused curiosity was replaced with genuine interest, "'Universe adjacent?' You're – you're from a parallel universe?" Rose nodded, still trying her best to keep from laughing again. "And there's another Doctor, there, and you traveled with 'im?"

"And wound up here. Questionable retirement plan. Ought to have read the fine print."

"Well, in this economy…" he smiled, and Rose couldn't hold back a grin.

"Well, you're quick as him."

"Glad I pass muster."

"Maybe," she allowed, "But I'm not just here to rescue you."

"I don't need rescuing."

"I'm talking," Rose reminded, and he raised an eyebrow at her, "I'm here to assess whether or not I _should_ help you escape. Like I said, I don't know you. You're not my Doctor, you're _a_ Doctor. If you eventually escape on your own; and if you're really as clever as he is, you most certainly will; that's not on my head. But if have a hand in it, I need to be sure I'm not releasing the proverbial Kraken."

"Understandable," The Doctor allowed, rocking forward once on the balls of his feet, arms behind his back, "Afraid I can't help you, there."

"Why's that?"

"Because I shouldn't be released." He said, matter-of-factly, that patronizing smile she knew so well masking his face, "So, run along, now. Back to your parties and your mansion..."

"Back to hire a contractor to tear out a wall of my bedroom because the TARDIS sure as hell won't fit through the closet door…" she interrupted. Then, Rose took a step forward and looked squarely up at him, all humor gone, "I need a serious reply, Doctor. I'm here because The Doctor I knew made a difference in the universe. He healed lives, healed places, made them whole. If you're not that; if you're dangerous or destructive or, worse, apathetic, I can't have your escape on my conscience." She studied his face closely, and just as she hoped, she saw it. It was a moment, a flash of doubt and grief and agony in his gray eyes. It was everything.

"Go home," he said softly, "Go home and forget about me." Then, much to his surprise, the lovely blond woman in front of him smiled gently.

"Right, then." She said in soft triumph. Before he could react, she'd turned and knocked on the door. "Ready?" she grinned back at him.

"Ready for what?" he asked, incredulous. As the door gradually opened, Rose grabbed the edge and yanked it, and the guard tumbled into the cell. Without missing a beat, she reached behind her and took The Doctor's hand and pulled him along as she sprinted out the door. The Doctor caught up to his enigmatic rescuer in half a beat, and they made it clear, out into the hall, before the second guard could process what had just happened. Torn between shooting, giving chase, and helping his fallen associate, the stunned guard elected to radio ahead to the next checkpoint.

"He's not shooting," The Doctor huffed, "Why's he not shooting?"

"Want you alive," Rose wheezed back, "Keep runnin'." They darted right, up a short flight of stairs and barreled through a set of fire doors, conveniently just as the next set of guards had reached the same set of doors to intercept them. Both armed men were sent sprawling, all Kevlar and surprised epithets, onto the concrete. Rose and the Doctor staggered a bit, but managed to regain their balance and take up their pace once more. Ecstatic, Rose crowed at their luck, and they darted left around a bend and started down the final corridor before they could reach the lift that had brought Rose down here.

About that time, their luck ran out. The two men set to guard the lift were running down the hallway toward them. Rose and the Doctor stopped short, and the guards slowed to a stop halfway between them and the lift. There, one assumed a kneeling stance while the other remained upright.

"Halt!" the standing guard commanded, "You are in violation of…"

"Base station one, do not fire on prisoner. Repeat, do not fire on prisoner," interrupted someone over the radio. The man paused, weighing his response. "Base station one, do you copy?" The guard reluctantly took a hand off his rifle to key his mic.

"Roger, command, we have the prisoner and its accomplice."

"It?!" Rose and the Doctor protested simultaneously. The pair immediately looked at one another. Within a heartbeat, twin smiles crept across their faces.

"Do not fire on prisoner…" Rose repeated.

"Copy that," the Doctor answered. With that, they each tightened their grip on the other's hand and charged forward. The expressions on the guards' faces were priceless as the pair sprinted heedlessly toward their position. The man standing frantically fumbled with the mic on his shoulder as they drew near. Rose and the Doctor sped up.

"Command, this is base station one. Prisoner charging our position. Permission to fire non-lethal." The kneeling soldier was quicker than his partner.

"Permission denied, base station one." Came the reply just as Rose and the Doctor reached their position and body-checked them out of the way.

"Fantastic!" The Doctor crowed, and Rose laughed, too keyed up and out of breath for words. Behind them, the two guards scrambled to their feet and took up the chase. Rose and the Doctor were only five yards from the lift and closing fast.

"Command," one of the guards radioed in, panting as he ran, "Permission to fire on accomplice!" Rose and the Doctor reached the lift and threw themselves inside.

"Permission granted, base station one. Make sure it's a clean shot."

"Yes, sir, I will," the guard smiled and dropped to one knee as The Doctor hit the lift button

"What's he doin'?" Rose asked, breathing heavily as the upper and lower panels began to close. "He's not supposed to shoot." The Doctor's eyes grew wide.

"Duck!" he shouted, grabbing Rose by the elbow and pulling her aside just as the report of the rifle reverberated through the hall. Rose stumbled back and fell, a flash of heat radiating from her left arm.

"Ah! Son of a—You missed, idiot!" Rose shouted just as the doors shut and the lift began its ascent.

"You all right?!" The Doctor was crouched next to her, frantically checking her left side.

"Yeah, yeah, just the arm, I'll be fine," she panted, "You need to be ready. Soon as we're out, we gotta leg it."

"You need medical attention." The Doctor insisted.

"'Tis but a flesh wound," Rose quoted with a brilliant grin. She waited a beat, but saw no glimmer of mirth on his face. "Right, haven't seen that one, then. I'll be fine, Doctor, I promise. I'll be less fine if they catch us. So, be ready." Cringing, she hoisted herself to her feet. The Doctor was still regarding her critically.

"You're a bit mad, yeah?"

"Says the man who goes around abductin' chickens,"

"I didn't abduct the chicken," he corrected, "The chicken stowed away in the TARDIS on my last trip. Got startled when I started hammerin' on the controls, so I landed where I could. I just thought I'd duck outside quick and let it loose when I ran into you."

"Only you," Rose mused, "Listen, if we get separated, there's a car park three blocks west of here. Multi-story, can't miss it. There's an old Land Rover, white, parked on the third floor, northeast corner."

"Can't miss it?" he guessed sardonically.

"I mean old. Looks like its been chewed on by a giant, teething toddler," she clarified, "That's our only way out of here. Meet me there, but stay out of sight best you can."

"All right," The Doctor agreed.

Just then, the lift stopped and the panels opened. Instinctively, they both took cover against the side walls. When they didn't hear anything, Rose peeked out and saw that the hallway was empty. "Clear," she said, and stepped out. Behind her, The Doctor fished around in the inside pocket of his jacket and eventually produced his sonic screwdriver.

"How the hell'd they let you keep that?" Rose asked.

"Dimensional pockets," he grinned, "If they don't feel anything lumpy when they frisk you, they don't check your pockets." With that, he began fiddling with the controls until something sparked and fizzled, "There, lift's stuck. They won't be comin' up this way." Rose pointed to a fire door on the left that read 'stairs.' The Doctor glanced at the door, and then back at her.

"They probably already started up. Bein' soldiers and all," she surmised.

"Ah."

"Shall we?" she motioned down the hallway.

"Yes, let's." With that, they both started running again, reaching the secret panel and pushing through just as the fire door slammed open. In the fake lobby she'd entered earlier that night, the man known as 'Ianto' was standing calmly, holding up the counter-top flap that allowed access to the area behind the desk.

"The doors won't lock. Behind the counter, quickly," he directed, and Rose and the Doctor wasted no time darting around the edge and diving into a crouch. Ianto calmly lowered the flap, walked over to the front door, turned the doorknob, and waited. Rose and the Doctor remained crouched, trying hard to slow their breathing. Seconds later, they heard boots behind the false wall, and just as the guards pushed the panel open, Ianto burst out the front door. The guards immediately followed suit.

"They've gone!" Ianto shouted, looking back at the guards wide-eyed, "How'd you let them escape?"

"That isn't your concern. We'll handle this. Shut the door behind us and lock it. Try to get that security system back online,"

"Yes, sir," Ianto assured, and once the guards had filed out, he did as he was told. Pausing to adjust his tie, Ianto walked back to the desk, lifted the flap, and passed behind the counter. Rose and the Doctor both looked up at him.

"Clear?" Rose asked.

"Yes, for now, but you need to leave. Out the back." Ianto crossed to the doorway behind the desk and held back the beaded curtain. The Doctor helped Rose to her feet, apologizing when she hissed in pain.

"Never mind it," Rose assured. Then, to Ianto, "Where does the back exit take us?"

"A service tunnel under the Wales Millenium Center. Look for a door labeled 'receiving' and you'll be let out onto the truck docks. Once you're outside, you'll need to look for transport."

"I have some," Rose assured.

"You can't return to your vehicle,"

"Whyever not?"

"The CCTV system is down at the moment, but it was operational when you came in. They'll have cross-referenced your image with the traffic cams."

"Wilf won't be happy about that," Rose mused, "Right, well, we'll figure something out," Rose and the Doctor passed through the doorway and down the hall in the direction Ianto pointed out. Rose paused and looked back, "Thanks for the help."

"Don't thank me," he insisted, "I haven't done anything." Rose understood his meaning perfectly. She nodded in acknowledgement and turned to follow the Doctor down the dimly lit corridor.

* * *

**Footnote:** "You know, fightin' in a basement offers a lot of difficulties. Number one bein', you're fightin' in a basement." –Lt. Aldo Raine


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note:** I own nothing. Squat. Nada. I'm a big, fat phony. That said, Thanks for reading

**TK:** I think it's perfectly fair to call this the "adult Rose." Still very much the same spirit, but she's built herself into this brilliant, strong, self possessed woman. She had the courage to find meaning and purpose without The Doctor and the TARDIS. **PolkaDotTARDIS:** OH, Okay, I think I got confused, too. Tom Milligan was the resistance fighter who met up with Martha after she "walked the earth" for a year. Tall, dark hair, stuble, quite handsome, really. When the timeline was repaired and the Master defeated, she became engaged to Tom for a time, though he was only seen in that one episode, and she eventually married Mickey. I wonder, though, if maybe they just couldn't get the actor back who played Tom so they married her off to Mickey. Either way, I liked Tom, so I had he and Martha have their HEA. **Everyone:** Thank you so much for all the support, I had crazy fun writing that last chapter, so let's hope the momentum carries. Many more adventures to come! But first, to complete this one…

* * *

It was The Doctor's idea, inspired by that errant chicken, that they try to stow away on a zeppelin bound for London. After breaking out of Torchwood, sneaking onto a commercial airship seemed relatively minor. They spent several hours sneaking about the hangars and warehouses at the sky harbor, before they found a flight bound for London. Rose pointed out that, by that point, both their faces would be distributed across news outlets nation-wide and every CCTV would be scanning for their faces. As such, it was agreed that bluffing their way onboard with psychic paper was out. They would have to sneak in to the cargo area.

"How can so many people be takin' the early-bird flight from _Cardiff_?" The Doctor wondered. The loading door had just been shut, and he had begun rearranging luggage in the notably over packed cargo compartment. The ceiling was a touch too short, even for Rose, leaving the Doctor hunched over.

"Business," Rose shrugged. She'd run out of steam at this point, and she was seated against a pile of floral-print luggage that reeked of ancient perfume, too exhausted to get up and help. "This flight lands quarter after seven. Perfect for those eight a.m. business meetings."

"Right, well, they could have spared some consideration for the odd stowaway, yeah?" The Doctor looked back at her, expecting a smile for his witticism. Instead, her head was tilted back against a rather gaudy hatbox, her eyes shut. She'd been so alert, so energetic the last several hours. That, along with the midnight blue cargo slacks and jacket hiding any blood stains, made it easy to forget she'd been shot. "Oi!" he immediately knelt beside her and took her left hand. There was something cold and sticky there, and as he turned over her palm he saw a lone streak of red.

"I'm fine," she said, head up, now, though clearly exhausted, "Through and through. The bleedin's stopped by now."

"Just so, we're seein' to this."

"With what?" she reminded, "They don't keep med kits in the cargo area."

"Improvise," he grinned, "I'm good at improvisin', me. Take the jacket off."

"Sod off!" she scoffed, "It's freezin' in here."

"Right…" The Doctor looked around a second. He took his sonic screwdriver out and started unlocking suitcases. The first several clearly had men's clothing, but he did find one or two undershirts and hastily tore them into strips. One bag was filled with nothing but leather bondage gear. Still another contained sequined gowns, thigh-high stockings, designer pumps, and fuzzy handcuffs.

"Business people?" The Doctor asked, bemused.

"Oldest profession in the world, that," Rose chuckled. She was fighting to keep her good humor, but he could tell she was getting weaker. He searched faster. In one set he found a woman's mink coat and held it up for Rose.

"Yeah?"

"No," she laughed, "God no. Bit conspicuous." The Doctor kept looking. Luckily, in the same bag, he found a bottle of high-end gin.

"Pretty sure this ain't above board," he commented, "Always thankful for the dedicated lush." Sifting further, he finally found a bag that looked promising; women's jumpers, skirts, and a knee-length violet pea coat.

"That should work," Rose allowed.

"Right, then," The Doctor crowed, victorious. He gathered what he'd found; the torn strips of T-shirt, the gin, a couple heavy jumpers, and the wool coat; and knelt down next to Rose. "We'll only take the one arm out," he assured, unzipping the jacket, "Keep you as warm as we can." Carefully, he helped her sit up and slip her left arm out of the coat sleeve. She wore a white thermal tee underneath, making the crimson stains soaking her left sleeve all the more obvious. "Right, long sleeves. Of course."

"I don't go out the door planning to get shot," she defended, "Just happens."

"Happens? Plural?"

"What? You never gone walkin' 'round a dodgy neighborhood?" she asked. Then, somewhat sheepishly, "In Bogata. At 3 am."

"Magnet for trouble, you are," he scoffed. He picked up a set of nose-hair clippers from the mess of stuff spread around them, "Sorry, not sure where this has been, but…" he shrugged and used the clippers to cut a small notch at the shoulder of her sleeve before ripping the fabric away and gently peeling it down her arm. It stuck a bit to the dried blood, and Rose winced but kept silent. Now intent on his work, The Doctor made a quick scan with his sonic screwdriver.

"Nothing significantly damaged," he noted.

"You sure you're qualified?" Rose mocked gently.

"I _am_ a Doctor," he insisted with exaggerated dignity.

"Yeah, where'd ya take your exams?"

"Hapholyt 36."

"What?"

"Small, terraformed asteroid in the Antares System," he continued, "The sonic can help some of the tissue start repairing, but I'm still goin' to have to use the gin. Not programmed to damage anything living."

"Not even bacteria?"

"'Fraid not," he said, cracking open the bottle and soaking some of the cotton strips. He gently cleaned away the blood that had run down her arm, working his way up toward the wound. "Sorry, this is going to sting a bit," he warned before pouring a tot directly into the wound. Rose groaned deep in her throat.

"Godqueenmotherandallthevicars," she growled. The Doctor scanned the wound quickly.

"Almost," he said, "Lean forward quick, I need to pour some in the exit wound." Rose took a few deep breaths and did as he asked. Her arm burned with a vengeance, but he finally seemed satisfied it was clean. He leaned Rose back against the luggage and she took a moment to close her eyes, breath deep, and push through the pain while he prepared the makeshift bandages. Finally, he used a couple strips, soaked in gin then squeezed out, to cover the wounds and three or four dry ones to tie it all on as securely as possible.

"There, that should hold a bit," he smiled, but Rose could only respond with a weak, drowsy smile of her own. "Right, then, let's get you kitted out and then you can rest." The Doctor helped Rose get her other arm out of her ruined jacket and selected the thickest jumper he'd found. Rose insisted on dressing herself, and The Doctor lent a hand only when she experienced trouble getting the sleeve to stretch over her cast. In the end, he had to cut a slit up the cuff to make it fit.

"How'd ya manage that, then? 'Nother jail break?"

"No," Rose smiled, rising to her knees so she could slip into the pea coat, "I uh, sort of hit someone."

"Sort of?"

"I punched a coworker," she said flat-out, "Broke my hand." She tried buttoning the coat left-handed, but found her fingers cold and fumbling, "Could you…"

"Oh, of course," The Doctor deftly button the coat and helped her back down to sit on the floor. "So, you've got a job, then? You're not a burgler?"

"Everyone's a fashion critic," she scoffed, "Yes, I have a job. Had a job, I suppose. Been placed on 'administrative leave.' 'S basically bureaucrat-ese for 'your pink slip's in the post, we don't want you makin' a scene in the lobby.'" The Doctor chuckled at that.

"Sorry to hear that," then, he thought a moment, "It wasn't broken the other night,"

"No, this happened after… After they took you. My friend was the one who ordered the whole thing. I lost my temper a bit." Rose paused a moment, pondering, "Listen, you should know – I'm a field agent. For Torchwood. Or I was."

"What?"

"I just, I don't want you findin' out about it if we get caught, thinkin' this was all part of some plan. I really am here to get you back – back to the TARDIS," She insisted, then added "Well, if I can." The Doctor regarded her a moment, gray eyes assessing her closely. Much to his own surprise, he found he believed her.

"Get some rest," he finally said, gently.

"Right, you're not goin' to go swannin' off when we land, leavin' me for the baggage handlers to find," she teased, though half serious.

"No, I'll be right here," he assured, helping her lie back and tucking a folded sweater under her head. Then, a thought occurred to him, "What's you're name?" She chuckled in response.

"Rose," she responded, drifting off, "My name is Rose."

* * *

The Doctor had repacked the luggage as best he could remember. Though, feeling a bit puckish, he had stashed a stray feather boa and pair of fuzzy handcuffs in some gent's suitcase. He needed everything to appear orderly and untouched. The last thing they wanted was for the baggage handlers to have the cargo hold searched. To that end, he spent some time looking for a place to hide until the ground crew was done unloading the airship. Eventually, he found a maintenance hatch leading to the ventilation system. A bit cramped, but they could manage.

With nothing else to do, and an hour left until they landed, The Doctor sat himself down near Rose and considered the current state of affairs. They'd be landing in the heart of London, a city littered with CCTV cameras. The TARDIS was parked in her closet, and by now Torchwood certainly had the house under surveillance. That is, if they hadn't obtained a warrant to search the premises, already. Nothing added up favorably, but on the upshot, at least for now he was free. With that thought, he glanced down at the woman asleep on the frigid metal floor next to him.

The Doctor found he was wildly curious to find out all about this outrageous woman, the universe she came from, how she wound up here, and, above all, The Doctor she knew. With all that had happened, the surety of knowing that another Time Lord lived, even if only in another universe, gave him a small measure of hope. For the first time in a long while, he felt slightly less alone. After all the horrific things he'd seen – and caused – during the war, he'd avoided any and all personal connections. There was a time, briefly, when he'd followed the Nestene Consciousness to Earth and a young woman by the name of Lynda had helped him locate and defeat the Consciousness. He'd seriously considered inviting her along, but his guilt and his fear overwhelmed him.

After that, he'd left Earth and distracted himself with putting out fires kindled by the Time War all over the universe. In fact, the incident at the private school in Croyden had been the first time he'd set foot on Earth in more than a decade. All that time he'd traveled alone, convinced he was doing the right thing by not involving anyone in his suicidal missions. Then, he meets this woman, this woman who knows his face and his title. This woman who travelled with him in a different time and place. He had to wonder, then, how it was this other "self" had possessed the strength – or insanity – to take her along. To look at a face, day after day, so hauntingly similar to the millions he'd snuffed out. To risk another's life in his mad compulsion to make amends for all he'd done.

As he looked at her now, he thought he saw at least part of the picture. She was courageous, she was clever, and, above all, he'd seen a measure of the joy and wonder she possessed. Things he thought long gone from his own existence until she'd started laughing at him in his cell. Joy, not sardonic mirth or manic energy, actual joy had teased at his mind for the barest moment. He'd survived so long by suppressing it, and he was terrified to learn it hadn't died entirely. He realized, given just that small spark of something real, he'd have asked her to come along as well.

It suddenly occurred to him he ought to end it now. Allow her to return to her life, keep her from the suffering he feared would inevitably fall to her if she followed him. It would be so easy to sneak away and leave her slumbering. He also knew, in that same moment, he wouldn't. It was selfish, it was foolish, and it was unstoppable. As he heard the engine noise lower in pitch and felt the airship begin its descent, The Doctor took a deep breath, leaned in, and nudged his companion awake.

* * *

**Footnote:** Fun fact, Phoenix's airport is called Sky Harbor. I like it. I think all airports should be called that.


	9. Chapter 9

Author's Note: I don't own any of the Doctor Who characters. Just another twit who can't be trusted with a keyboard and an internet connection.

**TK:** Your reviews always make my day! :D Also, at least he didn't blow up her job, this time. **Everyone:** Thanks so much for your continued support! Any writer's job is to tell a good story, and you keep me in track!

* * *

"Feelin' any better?" The Doctor asked, amiably, now that they were off the airship. They were walking along the banks of the Thames several hundred yards outside the chain-link fence that bordered the London sky harbor. He'd found a white knit hat with a small brim in front to hide at least part of her face as long as she kept her head low. Danger or no, he himself refused to wear one.

"Well," Rose began, hands shoved deep in the warm wool pockets and breath misting in the chill spring morning air, "I reek of blood, sweat, and gin. My right hand aches somethin' fierece, my left arm is burnin', and I'm wearin' a 2,000 quid wool coat over cargo pants and army boots. So, all in all, brilliant." She grinned up at him, and he realized she was being perfectly genuine.

"Mad, you are," he chuckled, "So, where we headed?"

"What, I have to think of everything around here?"

"It's your rescue mission," he beamed.

"Useless. Completely useless," she scoffed, "Well, we need to get home, but my parents can't help. They'll be watchin' for our cars, any of the servant's cars, too, after Wilf leant me the Land Rover. We could try to steal one, but we'll likely only find smart cars 'round this city. We'll be caught before we can leave the neighborhood. There is one option…"

"Well, what? What is it?" the Doctor asked after she let the sentence drop.

"Mickey. The one who supervised your capture. The one I hit…"

"No."

"They won't suspect him. They won't be watchin' him or his house after I clocked 'im like that."

"No," The Doctor insisted, his face stony. Any humor he'd had was lost.

"Well, that's all I've got," Rose scolded, "If you have any better ideas, I'm glad to hear 'em." They walked some way in tense silence.

"S'there no one else?" The Doctor finally asked. His tone was grim but resigned. Rose thought, wracking her brain. Nearly all her friends and acquaintances, all those of her parents, were most certainly being watched. Then, it came to her, and she stopped short. The Doctor was a pace or two ahead when he noticed and he stopped and turned. The look on her face was by turns anxious, pained, and knowing.

"One. Maybe," She said softly, "There might be one they won't be watchin'."

* * *

"What were you thinkin' comin' here?" Tom had been more than a little surprised to wander down to his kitchen that morning and find his ex sneaking about the back yard with some strange navvy in tow. Still, he'd allowed them inside and offered them tea. He was nothing if not British.

"I'm sorry, Tom," Rose insisted, "I'd never come to you if I felt I had another choice." The Doctor, quite smartly, had kept his mouth shut ever since she said she knew where they could go, and he remained silent, now, sipping his tea.

"This is the bloke, innit?" he gestured toward the silent Doctor, "The one who got pinched from your birthday party."

"Yes," Rose admitted.

"And that was a Torchwood Tac Team." Tom continued. He and Martha had both left Torchwood after things fell apart. Rose had been thankful that when she lost her husband and her best friend, at least she'd been able to keep Torchwood.

"Yes, it was."

"And you sprung 'im, I take it, and brought 'im here."

"That's about the size of it," Rose pursed her lips and averted her gaze to the cup of tea in her hand.

"Tom?" came a voice from the top of the stairs, "Who is it? Who's here?"

"It's best you stay upstairs love. No need to worry yourself."  
"Bugger that," Martha appeared, descending the stairs with careful steps. She was wrapped in a silk bathrobe, her advanced pregnancy clearly growing cumbersome. "Rose…"

"Yeah," Rose admitted, "S'me."

"And your friend?" Martha asked, having reached the bottom of the stairs. The three people at the table were silent a moment.

"I'm The Doctor," himself finally said, perhaps the first words he'd spoken in an hour. He was sure that was a new record.

"The Doctor?" Martha asked, "_The_ Doctor?"

"Sort of," Rose hedged. Tom rose and helped his wife into a chair at the table before crossing to island to pour her tea. Martha just stared at the Doctor a moment.

"You told her?" The Doctor asked.

"Quiet, you." Rose said curtly before addressing Martha, "He's not my Doctor. He belongs to this universe."

"But I thought you said they didn't exist, here. The Time Lords, that is." Martha whispered.

"We were wrong. I guess they've just been a bit more – discreet, here," Rose shrugged. The Doctor thought to make a crack about how relatively unremarkable their planet was, about how it was the "Deep South" of planets and most species wouldn't even stop for fuel, but wisely decided to keep it to himself. Meanwhile, Tom set Martha's tea in front of her and reclaimed his seat.

"So," Tom commenced, "What is it you want, Rose?"

"The TARDIS, his ship, that is, it's parked in my closet."

"There's a spaceship parked in your closet?" Martha asked, smiling, now.

"Yeah, it's hard to explain," Rose smiled back, "But, they're watchin' my parents. Torchwood, that is. We need transport."

"You're mad," Tom scoffed, "What makes you think we'll help you."

"Tom…" Martha placed a hand on his arm.

"No," Tom continued, "This is beyond, Rose. Far beyond. We've built a home, Rose, we've a child on the way, and you show up with a target on your forehead? You're lucky I don't call Torchwood right now."

"Then why don't you, Tom?" Rose cut in, "Why didn't you call them when you saw me and 'im hidin' behind the planter? Look, I know we've had our differences, but I promise I'm not here out of – revenge or something. I'm here because I've nowhere else to go. I'm here because I have to get him back to his ship, because Torchwood made a terrible mistake and they've set a path I can't allow them to follow. Martha," Rose looked at her friend, "I would never, ever do anything to put you in harm's way. I hope you know that. You can report the car stolen, throw me under the bus, I don't care. I just need a chance to get him home. Keep him out of Torchwood's hands."

"This is ridiculous," Tom protested, though weakly.

"The Ducati," Martha said, now smiling with that determined glint in her eye that Rose knew all too well, "Take the motorbike. There's no GPS, it's quicker dodgin' through traffic, and the helmets'll hide your faces. Well, then again, they might not fit on over those ears…"

"Oi!" The Doctor protested.

"Hey, all things considered, I think I get a shot or two in." Martha grinned.

"Martha!" Tom protested.

"Can it, Tom," Marth interrupted, then, she smiled apologetically, "Sorry, love, but seriously, can it." Martha pushed herself laboriously to her feet. Tom made a move to help, but she swatted him away, "Go get the helmets," she ordered, then, turning to Rose, "You two, come with me." Rose and The Doctor glanced at each other before rising from the table and following Martha through the front room and into the garage. The Ducati was parked in the back corner, and Martha pulled the dusty tarp off.

"Right," Martha addressed them, coughing, "You going to be good drivin' with that?" She gestured toward Rose's cast. Rose cringed.

"Not so much. We may have to cut it off. Any saws in here?" Rose looked around the racks of tools against the wall.

"Don't be stupid. If I can operate a spacecraft that also travels in time, I can drive a bloody motorbike," The Doctor insisted. Rose looked at him critically. "What?"

"In my experience, you're a terrible driver."

"I'm not him, Rose," his grin was a tad condescending. Just a tad.

"How'd you end up in my closet?" Rose asked, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow.

"Point taken." The Doctor allowed, "You navigate."

"How's that, then?"

"Tap my left elbow when we need to go left, right when we need to go right. Simple." The Doctor grinned. Just then, Tom came into the garage carrying two full coverage motorcycle helmets.

"They don't have mics," Tom explained, "So you won't be able to talk to each other." He shot a questioning glance toward Martha, but she just smiled at him.

"Right," Rose said, taking a helmet from him. She fiddled with the straps a bit, avoiding his gaze, before looking up at him, "Thank you, Tom." He only nodded. The Doctor took his helmet with a nod of acknowledgement before crossing over to the bike and mounting up.

"Here," Tom said, taking the key from his pocket, but the Doctor pulled out the sonic screwdriver and grinned.

"No need. Plausible deniability," Within moments the engine turned over and Martha pressed the button to open the garage door.

"We have to report it stolen," Tom informed them over the thrum of the engine, "We'll give you fifteen, and we have to call it in."

"Understood," The Doctor nodded. Rose approached her old friend.

"Thank you," she said softly, "You've no idea…" Before she could finish, Martha pulled her into a massive hug.

"I've missed you," Martha admitted, "You'll always be my best friend, always. I had to give you a chance. Just don't mess this up." As they pulled away, Rose looked at her quizzically. "You know what I mean," Martha smiled.

"I'm quite sure I've no idea." Rose dismissed, "But thank you." Crossing over to where the Doctor waited on the bike, she pulled the pins from her bun and let her hair fall before sliding the helmet on. The Doctor offered his elbow for support and she mounted the bike, tucking her feet back against the foot bars.

"Ready?" he looked over his shoulder. Rose nodded and wrapped her arms around his midsection. The Doctor turned his attention to the couple standing by the door leading into the house. "Thanks," he said simply, "I'll try to make it up to you,"

"Please, don't" Martha teased, "I know all about you." The Doctor smiled, slid on his helmet, and revved the engine. Within moments they were gone.


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note:** The BBC owns all the Doctor Who characters, themes, and ideas. They won't even lend them out for the weekend. Stingy bastards. Anyway, this was meant to be the last chapter; 10th chapter, nice, round number. Then it ran longer than I intended. Twice as long, in fact. That seems to be a pattern for me… Soooo, this is the first half of the last chapter of this "episode."

**GitaMerah: **There was no cheating, and you will discover more about what went on, there later on, I promise, but Tom's attitude concerns the level of potential danger Rose is dragging into their lives. He and Martha left Torchwood specifically because he wanted safety and normalcy. Especially with the baby now on the way, and there's some residual guilt, there, after he married Rose's best friend, so he naturally suspects her of trying to get back at him because subconsciously he thinks he did something worth her vengeance. People be complicated. That's why I have a dog. **TK & LadaHathaway:** I always really liked Martha, I just never saw her "with" The Doctor. Especially not nine. Still, I wanted her to have her own 'thing' going on, her own story and happy ending. Let's just say, a younger version of herself, might be popping up eventually… **Carri007**: Um, this is really going to annoy you, then. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please don't telekinetically burn my house down. **Yippee:** I unfortunately have zero graphic art skills. I could draw some little stick figures on a motorcycle. My stick figures have much more personality than the average, I swear. **royslady51:** Given your high standards as specified on your profile, that's a huge compliment. Thank you! **abdhfbaciau:** Thank you so much. Also, did your cat walk across the keyboard whilst you were signing up? :D

* * *

Rose and The Doctor had abandoned the bike along a dirt road that ran near the eastern boundary of the Tylers' property. It was a two mile hike from there to the house, but Rose wanted above all to diminish the chances Tom and Martha could be tied to herself and The Doctor. Now, they were a little under a mile from their destination, passing through an open field and approaching the wooded land that surrounded the house. They hadn't said much since leaving the Milligans' home, and The Doctor now wished he'd taken a chance on trusting that idiot Ricky, or whatever his name was, rather than putting her through – whatever it was she'd gone through back there.

"Only a bit to go," Rose said, breathing heavy. The Doctor watched her, trudging determinedly through the long grass. She had to be exhausted.

"We could take a break," he offered, "The woods should cover us."

"I'm all right," Rose insisted.

"How do you know I don't need a bit of a rest?" he tried.

"Well," Rose started, shooting him a sardonic look, "You've got two hearts, and if you're anything like The Doctor I knew, ya spend half your life stirrin' up trouble and then runnin' for your life." The Doctor let it drop. He was finding there wasn't much use arguing with her.

"Right. It's a little disconcerting, ya know. You knowin' so much about me and me knowin' nothin' about you."

"Yeah, well, I think it's good for you. Bein' caught off guard once in awhile." Rose smiled at him tongue between her teeth.

"Just cruel, you are."

"You could ask, you know."

"All right. How'd you end up here, then?"

"Which time?"

"I'm sorry."

"I came here twice. Second time I got stuck here."

"All right, the first time," The Doctor decided, intrigued.

"That was a mistake, actually. I was travelin' with The Doctor and we just sort of ended up here. Just in the nick of time, too. The Cybermen came online shortly after we arrived," Rose glanced at The Doctor out of the corner of your eye, "That's why we thought you didn't exist, here. There was no one but us to stop the Cybermen."

"I was, uh, busy," The Doctor replied. He wasn't sure how much she knew of the Time War, "Still, that explains a lot. The TARDIS would normally divert me to a major temporal event like that, but she also wouldn't allow me to cross paths with an alternate version of myself."

"Mickey met his alternate self and the universe didn't collapse," Rose pointed out.

"Well, with all due respect, your idiot friend is not a Time Lord."

"Leave 'im be." Rose chided, a shiver of Déjà Vu passing through her.

"He had me arrested," The Doctor reminded indignantly, "I could say a lot worse of 'im."

"I know, I'm sorry, he was just… bein' careful I guess."

"You guess," The Doctor muttered. Then, a thought occurred to him, "Speakin' of Ricky…"

"Mickey," Rose corrected, laughing.

"Oh whatever 'is name is. How'd he know I was there? Middle of nowhere this place is. Private property."

"Apparently, he'd been tryin' to figure out whether or not you existed for years." Rose explained just as they reached the tree line. Despite her previous assertions, she paused, leaning against a tree and closing her eyes, "They caught the TARDIS on CCTV landin' near Tower Bridge earlier in the day. It was gone by the time the Tac Team showed up, but Mickey had a hunch you might show up here, so he assigned a team to stake out the house."

"He was spyin' on you?"

"He made a mistake," Rose admitted.

"What, you paste him one, and now you're defendin' 'im?" The Doctor laughed, "Humans. Hard as I try I'll never understand you." Rose's eyes snapped open.

"He's my friend," she said sternly, "You've no idea what we've been through, what he's done for me." The Doctor looked into her eyes, brilliant hazel in thedaylight, and he understood. Of course. The comment about Mickey meeting himself, he'd glossed over it.

"He's from your universe," he acknowledged. A part of him was glad that she didn't get stranded here alone, and he hated Mickey a little less.

"Yeah, and my mum, too." Rose sighed, "Worked out, though. More or less."

"Right," The Doctor nodded. Then, after a moment, "I'm sorry, Rose."

"What for?" she shrugged and offered a gentle smile before standing upright, away from the tree, "Not your fault, is it? Shall we?" she motioned ahead. The Doctor, however, made no move to continue.

"You lost your home," The Doctor pointed out, every word rich with knowing.

"I appreciate it," she knew how much it took for him to even mention it, "but at least I had them. Not everyone can say that." She reached out and placed her hand on his elbow, giving it a gentle squeeze. The Doctor didn't have an immediate answer, and Rose just smiled, dropped her hand and began walking, "Come on, then. Got to return you to your carriage before it turns back into a pumpkin."

* * *

They could see the house from where they hid at the edge of the woods. After an hour of waiting, they hadn't seen any overt signs of Torchwood's presence. Still, Rose was certain they'd be there. The real question was whether they'd assigned a surveillance-only team or an armed unit. They would be seen as soon as they stepped out of the dense foliage and made their way to the mansion, but the difference between the Tac Team being on-site or only nearby was the difference between facing down dozens of assault rifles in five seconds or five minutes.

"Well, nothing for it, then," The Doctor interrupted Rose's train of thought. Without warning, he stood up and stepped forward. Rose tried to grab his pant leg to stop him, but reached out instinctively with her right hand and wound up just batting at the denim futilely with her cast.

"What are you doing?" she hissed. As soon as he reached the clearing he turned around and spread his arms wide with a huge grin.

"They won't shoot me, Rose," he reminded, "They want me alive." As Rose watched, stunned, he turned back toward the house and continued walking. After maybe twenty paces, he paused and started turning around in circles, "Oi! Anyone out there?! Here I am. Alone and relatively vulnerable." He stopped, glancing around the clearing before looking to where Rose still hid in the bushes. "I think it's clear," he surmised with a smug grin. Grumbling, Rose got to her feet and stormed out of the woods.

"You know," she informed as she stalked past him, "After all I did to bust you out, you could show a little more instinct for self-preservation." The Doctor hurriedly caught up with her, still maintaining his smug grin.

"What was your plan, then? Stay in the woods for three days? Wait for them to get bored and leave?"

"I was working on it."

"Yes, well, while you were working on it, I made and executive decision."

"Oh, just hurry up," Rose chided, taking long, quick strides. She felt highly uncomfortable out in the open, and they were still twenty yards from the door.

"No need to be cross," he could keep pace with her quite effortlessly, "Man of action, I am. Couldn't help it." Just as he finished speaking, a deep thrumming noise began to swell in the air around them. Rose stopped and turned. The startled, knowing look in her eyes made The Doctor look back as well. There, just coming into view above the trees, was a hover copter.

"You were saying, 'action man?'" The Doctor might have had a clever comeback, but he found he couldn't manage the air of relaxed disdain he normally assumed in the face of imminent peril. He was, rather suddenly, suffused with anger. Watching the black, armored aircraft fly toward them, four rotating jet engines making the tops of the birch trees below bend and snap, all he could think of was the crack of that rifle in the bunker in Cardiff and the way the woman beside him had slumped to the floor of the elevator. He turned to Rose, determination etched on his face.

"Toward the house," he took her elbow and turned her around and started walking, "Stay in front of me, don't get too far ahead."

"Shouldn't we run?" the jet engines were growing louder, and she could hear the pitch change as the engines swiveled in preparation for landing on the sprawling front lawn.

"No, not this time," he breathed. They'd reached the white gravel drive; the front door was so achingly close. Rose turned her head instinctively to look past The Doctor and judge how long before the Tac Team came swarming out of the aircraft, but his hand flew to her shoulder, "Don't" he snapped, "I don't want them gettin' a clean shot." Rose, for once, didn't argue.

They reached the front porch and hastened up the handful of stairs. Rose tried the door, but it was locked. Frantically, she started pounding on it with her one good hand, shouting to be let in. The Doctor had turned, hands clinched at his sides, to face the dozen or so armed men pouring from the hover copter and witness a second craft approaching from the west. Within seconds, just as Rose was starting to fear that she'd failed, that The Doctor would be taken and secreted away to be held captive for the rest of his stunningly long life, the door opened.

"Come on, then!" Pete hurried them inside, "What took ya so long?" Rose looked at him, incredulous.

"And why you wearin' a different coat, love?" Jackie came trotting across the foyer and threw her arms around her daughter.

"Oh. Good. Domestics." The Doctor smiled ruefully.

"Right, then. It's himself." Jackie acknowledged, releasing Rose and assessing this new Doctor, "Shame it wasn't the handsome one."

"Mum!"

"Oi!"

"What? I'm allowed my opinion."

"Mum, there's a hover copter full of armed Torchwood foot soldiers on the front lawn. Perhaps we should clear the foyer."

"They won't breach," Pete said, "I had a word with the director. Threatened to pull my funding. They can just sit out there and think about what they've done." Rose couldn't help smiling at her father. Stepfather. Whatever.

"Fantastic." The Doctor beamed, "Now, I hate to be rude, but – where's my ship?"

"Don't waste time, does he?" Jackie observed, disapproval clear in her voice.

"Jackie, don't start," Pete admonished gently, "It's just upstairs." He lead the way, motioning them to follow, all the while they could hear superiors barking orders to the men outside. They'd not yet attempted to contact anyone in the house, but as long as they didn't breach, it didn't matter. Rose was finally feeling hopeful, victorious even. As soon as they reached her room she threw open the closet door and flipped on the light.

"There she is," Rose beamed, then looked up at The Doctor's relieved expression, "Safe and sound." For a moment, he just stopped and looked at his ship. There'd been a serious moment, there, despite Rose's assertions that he could very well escape on his own, when he'd wondered if he'd ever see the TARDIS again.

"Thank you," he said, eyes still fixed on his ship. Then, he jarred himself back to the moment and turned his attention to the mad, bold little blond who'd pulled it all off, "For everything. Thank you."

"Sweetheart," Pete was standing in the door, Jackie behind him watching everything closely but staying bizarrely quiet, "I hate to interrupt, but we need to get you out of here. Torchwood's out for your head, love. We washed and packed your gear, but the hover copter will be here in five to pick you up, and it can't wait." Rose's heart dropped. The reality of the situation, of what she'd done, hadn't truly sunk in until that moment.

"Right," she said, "Of course." The Doctor was watching all of this, momentarily speechless. For hours, now, he'd been at war with himself over whether to ask her the question he'd not dared ask anyone in years. All the way up to this moment he thought he'd have more time to make his decision. He was a Time Lord, dammit, and some small, spoiled part of him felt it was his birthright. Instead, as she looked up at him, so truly happy that she'd succeeded in returning him to this place, happy in spite of everything she'd clearly sacrificed, he realized his time was up.

* * *

**Footnote**: Put… The pitchforks… Down. You. With the torch. Drop it. Now, back away slow…


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note:** Ok. I'm an asshole. I hoped to get this done and post it last night, since I hadn't intended to split it into two chapters in the first place. But I got caught up with work and errands. Being an adult is highly overrated… If you've enjoyed Episode I, feel free to check out Episode II:

**Doctor Who: Parallax - Counting Stars **_Rose and The Doctor are united once more; off to take on the universe – starting with Florence in the 1600s. The "Father of Modern Physics," having been found suspect of heresy, is under house arrest. During those final years of his life, he will complete one of his most important works, but something is out to stop him. _

As stated before, I do not own the characters, themes, or ideas from Doctor Who. I just sneak them out on occasion and return them through the night drop with as little bruising as possible.

**royslady51:** Is… is the horse's name 'Wildfire' per chance? **Vaylyn:** *points at own eyes with two fingers, points at your eyes, points back at own* **Amorous Erised: **Thanks so much! I worry that I tend to get to wordy and cram in too much exposition. The "episodes" will be separate stories. Partly because it makes me feel better about myself to mark something "complete", partly because different episodes may feature different tertiary characters, and partly because, eventually, the second category will change to "Romance" instead of "Sci-Fi". Although "Sci-Fi will still certainly apply, they only let you have 2 categories. I figure that allows anyone who wants to avoid mush to cut and run. **artsoccer: **We're all mad here. **katydidtoo:** Well, if you water balloon me at the computer, nobody's getting anything for a good, long while. **aly:** So, this is where I say "There, I fixed it." **Yippee:** I had a note to you in the last chapter, and the note was still there, but your name was missing. A bit about stick figures. {see also: artsoccer's note} **rose9vamp1414:** Nope, Tom Milligan is that resistance fighter who met Martha on the beach when she returned to England after walking the earth for a year. They were later engaged on the show, then she ended up marrying Mickey. But I liked Tom. Tom was cute. The MetaCrisis 10th Doctor doesn't exist in my version of all this. Nothing against 10, but he had a good run, and I'm perfectly content with his story as-is. I like 9 best, he deserved a longer run, and I frankly feel he belongs with Rose. So, I's a gonna make it happen! :D **LadaHathaway:** Not to be a total twat, but… NINE AND ROSE 4EVAS! **TK:** I agree. Nine struck a good balance between trusting Rose to make her own decisions and mess up and making sure it didn't end in death, dismemberment, or anyone losing an eye.

* * *

"Or," The Doctor began, his voice was strangled a touch from being forced, but he recovered, "Or you could come with me." The offer was nonchalant. Or, at least, he hoped it was. He realized, then, that if she said no; no after saying yes to another version of himself in another world however long ago; it would break some small part in him that had held on to hope in spite of his best efforts to snuff it out. Rose appeared truly surprised, and he forgot to breath as he awaited her answer.

"I…" she looked at her parents, standing in the doorway. Pete was smiling, but Jackie was crying. Behind them, a small blond head peeked through, "Tony!" Rose fell to her knees and the boy rushed into her arms. The Doctor exhaled heavily and closed his eyes. After a moment, watching the child cling to her, he swallowed hard and he walked toward the TARDIS.

"Little monster," Rose grinned, letting go of him and looking at his face, "Holding down the fort, yeah?" Tony nodded silently and pushed something into her hands. It was an old Polaroid camera.

"Take pictures," he said.

"What?" Rose was perplexed, but the nine-year-old threw his arms around her neck once more.

"You're supposed to go with him," Tony whispered, "She said so. She told me she'd keep you safe." Knowing immediately who he meant, Rose turned to look at the TARDIS just as The Doctor started through the door.

"Oi!" she shouted, releasing Tony's grip around her neck and standing up. The Doctor stopped and looked back at her, making a concerted effort to mask his surprise.

"I was just…"

"You ask me to come with you and then try to just swan off without me answerin'."

"Well, technically, I didn't _ask_ you anything," he pointed out, "I simply suggested an alternative." He was wearing that sardonic smile, that mask he utilized so frequently, and she saw straight through it. She hadn't seriously considered this moment until just now. It had taken everything she had to rebuild and find purpose in her life after she was forced to stop traveling with The Doctor, and she had no illusions that she could just pick up where she left off with this new Doctor. But, she realized in that moment, that was a good thing. A fantastic thing, even.

"Suggested?" she crossed her arms, eyes challenging and the corner of her mouth curved in a smile. She wasn't the same person she was at nineteen. She was stronger, more resilient. She realized, then, that she could survive. That when next she inevitably had to let him go, she would carry on. Moreover, she got the feeling he needed her; that she had a job to do.

"Well, you clearly aren't going to stay out of trouble," he postulated, leaning against the TARDIS's door frame and crossing his arms, "I thought, probably better if someone's keepin' an eye on you."

"An eye? On me?" Rose scoffed, "I think you're the one who requires adult supervision."

"I believe I've done just fine for the last nine centuries," he defended, tilting his chin up and looking down at her over his nose.

"Wait, what?" Jackie chimed in.

"Doctor, if you've had nine hundred years to travel all of time and space and the only words you can think of to describe it all is 'just fine,' you're doin' it wrong."

"He's nine hundred years old?" Jackie was aghast.

"And I suppose you think you can do better?" The Doctor challenged, ignoring Jackie's very open turmoil.

"I know I can," Rose beamed, "That is, if the 'suggestion' remains on the table."

"You can't…" her mum began to step forward, but Pete put his arm out.

"Jackie, shut it," he said, though lovingly. Then, he looked at Rose, "She's grown up, dear. She knows what she's doin', and when she doesn't," he paused and a smile spread across his face, "she figures it out." Rose was speechless a moment as Pete approached her and put his hands on her shoulders.

"He'd be proud of you, sweetheart," he said softly, "I know, because I couldn't be any prouder if you were my own." With that, he folded his arms around her and Rose released a choked laugh as she held tight and buried her face in his shoulder. No sooner had he let go than Jackie was there, face contorted with incipient tears. She threw her arms around her daughter, nearly choking her.

"Mum, mum it's all right." Rose chuckled, patting her sobbing mother's back. Pete exited the closet only to return seconds later, her full rucksack in hand, dirty pink converse hanging by their laces from the attached carabiner. Jackie wasn't done sobbing, and Rose stood patiently, waiting for her to finish. In the midst of it all, they heard the thrum of a hover copter passing low over the house. Only then did Jackie let go and everyone but Pete looked upward, fearing the worst.

"That'll be your ride, then" Pete noted, "Too late, now." He looked at The Doctor, standing in the open doorway of his TARDIS and regarding all this with barely contained impatience. "You're stuck with 'er, now." He tossed the rucksack and The Doctor, though taken off guard a bit, caught it.

"Travels light, doesn't she?" he commented, weighing her lone bag in his hand.

"You!" Jackie cut in, storming toward The Doctor with all the righteous determination of Admiral Lord Nelson himself, "You'll take care of her, hear me? Cause if anythin' happens, it's me you'll answer to." At the moment, it looked like The Doctor was the one who needed taking care of.

"Dear…" Pete started.

"I mean it. I smacked 'im once, I'm not afraid to do it again." The Doctor glanced at Rose, his brow furrowed.

"Is she always like this?"

"Only with The Doctor," Rose laughed, "Come on, mum. I got to go." Jackie was sad, but resigned.

"All right, sweetheart. But don't let him talk you in to anythin' untoward. Dirty old man," she shot a scathing look at The Doctor who looked horrified.

"Mum…" Rose hung her head and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"S'not like that!" The Doctor protested.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Save it, mister." Jackie retorted, but she stepped back away just the same. The Tylers stood together, crammed in that walk-in closet with a blue phone box.

"Right. Ta, then." The Doctor grinned and retreated into the TARDIS. Rose shook her head.

"I love you all," she said, her hand on the door. Tony waved at her, grinning wide, while Jackie hid her face in Pete's shoulder, and Pete just smiled and nodded. "You'll be all right, yeah? With Torchwood…"

"Oh, I suspect things will pan out just fine," Pete dismissed, "In fact, come back in a few months and you might find there's been a change in management." He winked, and Rose grinned.

"Right, then." Looking at them, standing there in a line, she couldn't bring herself to say 'goodbye.' Instead, she waved her fingers, retreated into the TARDIS, and shut the door gently behind her. Once inside, she leaned against the closed doors and took a deep breath.

"Oh, good. You're done. Where to first?" The Doctor asked, cheerfully. He was pacing busily around the console, readying the old ship for departure. He didn't notice at first that Rose hadn't answered, not until it came time to plug in coordinates and he realized he had no destination. He glanced toward the door and saw she was still standing there, gazing up into the ceiling with a look of utter awe and joy on her face. His twin hearts paused a beat in succession. "Rose?"

"She's beautiful," Rose breathed, "She's exactly the same. She's – perfect."

"Well, that's good. With this ship, flattery will get you everywhere," The Doctor commented with a sly grin. Rose made no indication of hearing him, and instead a wild grin spread across her face. Pushing away from the doors, she sprinted up the ramp, feet pounding on the grating, and banked around the control hub to launch herself, sprawling, onto the jump seat. Laughing giddily, she stretched out across all three seats, arms and legs splayed in every which direction.

"Comfortable?" he asked, busily piloting the craft into the Time Vortex.

"Mmmhmm," she cooed.

"Can I get you anything? Tea? Crumpets? A seven course turkey dinner?" his smile belied his sardonic tone, or would have, if she were paying any attention.

"S'good," she murmured.

"Oh, good. There's no staff today. Cutbacks, you see. Had to sack the personal chef and the valet entirely. Shame, they were quality people. Cleaning staff is only here every third millennia, if it doesn't fall on a bank holiday, mind. So, you may find you'll need to take your bag to your room yourself. Apologies – aaand you're asleep, aren't you?" As the TARDIS's course in the Time Vortex stabilized, he finally glanced at his new companion and saw that she'd gone completely limp, her eyelids shut. His terribly clever riff was wasted on the utterly exhausted. Still, he couldn't stop a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

He considered waking her, showing her where to go to find a room, but as quickly as she nodded off, he found he couldn't bring himself to disturb her. Instead, he went to the controls and settled his ship into autopilot. They could stay in the Vortex for a time, allow his ship and his new companion to rest up. In fact, he realized, he could get on some of the repairs he'd been meaning to make. He grabbed a pull-hook and removed a section of grating near the base of the console. Just as he was about to lower himself down, a mass of white feathers came clucking madly out of the crawl space.

"What the hell you doin' in here?" The Doctor looked askance at the hen, glanced into the crawl space, then back at the hen. "How many of you are there?" The chicken, predictably, failed to answer. Shaking his head, The Doctor slammed down a switch on the controls, pulling the TARDIS out of the Vortex. Hastily, he flew around the console, making adjustments to the flight path, keeping an eye on the hen lest it wander off into the depths of the ship. Finally, the ship settled down, and he stepped back from the controls, eying the hen critically.

"Now, I'm bein' kind. Found a nice little field to set you loose in. But if you run from me, I'll turn you into a meat pie, got that?" Slowly, he wandered toward the chicken, trying to appear as non-threatening as a time-traveling alien with a binary circulatory system could. Luckily, he was able to capture the stowaway fowl with little fuss and minimal flapping.

"There, not so bad." The Doctor smiled. He tucked the hen under one arm and walked to the doors. Wherever they'd landed it was evening, and a bit chill. The Doctor made to set the chicken down in the long grass just outside the door, but froze when he heard something odd. Music. It was distant, perhaps a mile away, but he could hear it. Keeping hold of the chicken, he stood upright and took a better look at his surroundings. He recognized it instantly. It was the field beyond the woods surrounding the Tylers' house he'd passed through earlier that day with Rose. The music, he judged, must be coming from the house. It seemed strange they'd be throwing a party after he took their daughter away.

A thought occurred to him, and he glanced at his watch. He'd landed a mile from the mansion nearly twenty four hours before they left. It was a strange coincidence, but as he rolled the fact over in his mind, a problem that had been bothering him for hours bubbled to the surface. Given that the TARDIS had landed in Rose's closet, and he'd not made it outside with the hen before he ran into her in the kitchen and subsequently got arrested, how had Mickey the Idiot's surveillance team known he was there? How had they gotten there so quickly? Still standing in the doorway, he looked back at the control column skeptically.

"Is this you?" he asked, tone dark with warning. He waited a moment, and the lack of concrete response was telling. He knew, then, she was giving him a chance; a chance to change the timeline, keep from being arrested. Also, a chance to leave Rose safely back with her family. He'd still have run into her, certainly, but that brief interaction, no matter how puzzling, would not have led to this moment, now, and her sprawled out asleep on the jump seat. The Doctor looked down at the hen under his arm, clucking calmly and darting its head around. He could set the bird down now, undo what he was sure was one of the most foolish decisions he'd ever made, but as he thought of watching as Rose shimmered in gold and disappeared from his life, his decision was made.

"Go for a bit of a walk, shall we?" The Doctor asked the hen. Again, no response. He smiled to himself and stepped outside, and as he turned to lock the door he pointed at the control center, "We'll discuss this later."

* * *

**Footnote:**

"I won't dance, don't ask me

I won't dance, don't ask me

I won't dance, Madame with you

My heart won't let my feet do things that they should do"

-Frank Sinatra: I Won't Dance


End file.
